The New Life
by Mark R. Whitten
Summary: From the author of The Lost Journeys comes a new take on an old favorite: Bridge to Terabithia, The New Life. When Jess met Leslie his life changed. But how much will change when he discovers Leslie's secret? And will their friendship survive?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes/Explanation**

Greetings and welcome to _The New Life_. I'm Mark R. Whitten, your humble host and I'm afraid I have some explaining to do. See, I don't think you'll find this to be an ordinary _Bridge to Terabithia _fanfic. Unlike most of the "BTT" fanfics on this site, I have chosen a different setting for the story. I have set this one in a medieval fantasy world of my own making. Now, before you go clicking the "back" button at the top of the screen in search of something else to read, let me make this perfectly clear: I have _not_ abandoned the premise of the original story; I have simply re-imagined it.

I know some of you might be thinking (or saying) "Mark, c'mon, man, talk in English!" Alright, alright. Here it is: I re-wrote the original Katherine Paterson story. It's all still movie-based, in regards to the character's physical appearances and attitudes and while I have changed the setting, I've kept the characters in place. Some are admittedly different, in some ways, as you will (eventually) learn but I have kept to their personalities and appearances as much as I could.

The reason I didn't mention all of this in the earlier description is that I simply didn't have enough room to explain myself. Please keep in mind that the tag-line description, however ambiguous, is still accurate; Yes, Leslie does have a secret. Yes, it will shake the very foundation of her friendship with Jess. No, I'm not going to give you any hints about it. No, it will not be revealed for quite some time. And yes, if it makes you feel more at ease you can ask me to tell you right before the secret is revealed, so you won't feel anxious about when or where it comes out.

By the way, this story is NOT an LDD (Leslie didn't/doesn't die). That's not to say that she will or won't die, just that she has as much chance as anyone to live or to expire.

If anyone has any questions feel free to ask them, but please keep in mind that if you have any **guesses** about the story, such as Leslie's secret or what Jess will do about this or that situation, either keep them to yourself or send them to me in a private message.

Posting guesses about the story where anyone can read them will cause problems because **a)** you'll be right and ruin the surprises for everyone or **b)** you'll be wrong and mislead everyone. So just send your guesses about the story directly to me and I will answer what I can when I can.

Please keep in mind that my answers will be limited by what I can say without giving away the plot.

As long as everyone follows these simple guidelines, everything should be fine.

Otherwise, enjoy the story.

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 1**

Jess squinted into the gloom. It was still dark and though the sun had yet to rise, the song birds were already calling for the beginning of the day. He was nervous. He knew he had to be careful. The escape would be difficult, if not impossible. Still, it was dark and that was good; the darkness favored him. If he was quick, quiet and careful he could sneak out without anyone noticing. He peered out the window to the ground below and saw that his father's wagon was already rolling away. It was a welcome sight.

He would have an easier time escaping without his old man present.

Jess pulled on his dark wool pants and felt along the wall, groping until he found what he wanted. He lifted it close, running his fingers along the length of the willow switch—his sword. He had carved it himself out of an old branch. Jess' family had other switches, mostly for herding the animals, and sometimes used as a punishment device on him but as he grew, Jess learned to be careful and rarely had the switch used on him anymore. He resolved he would be extra careful today; no one would even know what he was up to.

Jess smiled as he slipped the sword behind his belt and made his way to the trapdoor.

As he unhooked the latch, the door swung open to hang down into the main room. He winced at the squeak it made, hoping it wouldn't wake his family, and held his breath, straining to hear any movement below. There was none. Jess let out an uneasy sigh as he hefted the ladder down to the dirt floor. Peering into the blackness below, he felt his pulse quicken. They were down there, he knew. He also knew that he had no choice. If he wanted to escape, he had to go down.

The ladder creaked and groaned under his weight as he climbed down to the first floor of their longhouse. His muscles were tense as he carefully placed his bare feet onto the dirt and as he made his way across the floor, its rough texture didn't slow him; his soles, calloused and tough as leather from years spent working barefoot, made only a soft scuffle as he walked.

The farmhouse stood as the lone guardian of the little land his family owned—a field and a small patch of vegetables. There wasn't nearly enough land for farming, so most of what little they grew in their gardens went to the table, along with a few ducks and fish from their pond. Jess was glad for the remote location. There wasn't anyone to call out to him or wake his family.

His family's house was a simple building made from wattle and daub—branches woven together and covered with a mixture of clay, straw and dung. It was large, relatively easy to build and had stood in steadfast service to his family for as long as he could remember, serving as both a house for his family and as a barn for the animals. He could hear them stirring in their pens in the back of the room. Jess didn't mind the animals too much; a few hogs, oxen and a cow were hardly enough to scare him, but sometimes he wished his family had a separate building in which to keep them.

Among his many tasks was watching over some of the smaller animals. They were of a decent temper, but none were very personable. Jess sometimes wished his family could afford a horse. His closest neighbors, the Perkins, had horses and let him care for them sometimes.

The Perkins longhouse was a bit bigger than his and they had the luxury of a stone wall separating their longhouse into a proper barn and home. His home didn't provide such comfort—only the wattle pens kept the animals on their side of the house. Secure as the pens were, they did nothing to keep away the animal's smell.

In spite of the foul smells and simplistic living conditions, his family's home was a comfortable and welcoming place. Jess was grateful to have a home—as he knew that some people didn't—but he also knew of places in town where buildings were much better. Many had windows with panes of glass that you could look through and floors made of smooth planks of wood covered with soft, colorful woven rugs.

Many even had fireplaces—hearths of stone mortared together to hold a fire on the side of the room, with a stone column called a chimney that would contain the smoke and release it through the roof. All his family's home had was a fire pit dug in the center of their simple dirt floor. It kept the building warm but filled the house with a haze of smoke, especially during winter. Sleeping above the others, he had to endure most of the wetness from rains and fire smoke. The woodsmoke stung his eyes and made him cough a lot before it finally found its way out of the hole in the roof and the roof itself wasn't much better, being made of simple thatch that leaked when it rained. Living on farmland, Jess knew they depended on rain, but it always made the house smell wet and foul and more like a barn. He knew from the teasing he received that it made him smell too.

Houses in town had roofs of clay tiles or slate that never leaked. They were always warm places, clean and dry. He had been in a few of those wonderful buildings on occasion—shops and inns that held any number of interesting people. They also held fine furniture, the likes of which his family could never hope to own. Jess wished they were wealthy enough to afford some of the finer things, but they could barely scrape by as it was.

In spite of his poverty, and the envy he often felt of the townspeople, Jess always enjoyed visiting Westwood. He rather favored watching the townsfolk as they went about their day. Mother often sent him out on errands while she stayed at home and worked, minding his little sister May belle and spinning wool into thread. Mother was one of many spinsters who spun wool for the town and made a few pennies at it to help buy food, cloth and other such things as they needed. Meager as the pay was, Jess was always grateful for her having work. His older sisters, Ellie and Brenda, helped her mend clothes and collected eggs, but sometimes he wished they would do something more useful, like move out. They weren't always kind to him; the two of them enjoyed teasing him when he was smaller but they had mercifully given up on tormenting him as he had grown but there were occasions when they tripped him or said he stank that really hurt.

His sisters weren't married of course. They were thought of as attractive by the boys in town, what with their long dark hair—a feature common to all the womenfolk in his family—but despite both of them being of the age to have husbands, their father had refused to allow it, preferring to keep them around to help until Jess had grown a little more. Jess never thought he would grow big enough to be rid of them.

Sighing at what he knew could never be, Jess considered the possibility of going into town that day. He always considered himself lucky that he could get away from the demands of his family for a time and he never complained when Mother sent him to buy pottery, tools or cloth as it gave him a chance to see his father at work. He rarely had steady employment and had to take jobs in town to support them.

Recently father had found work for the local blacksmith. It started with loading and unloading wagons, but when they learned they could depend on him, father landed a steady job pumping the bellows. Jess loved watching his father work, especially in the blacksmith shop. He would linger in the corner when his father needed him and dream of maybe one day working near the forge, making things for people. When he went into town on errands, Father would always spot him and ask what he was sent for before telling him to hurry on home with it before mother became angry. Jess would linger for a few minutes, watching father fixing things or loading things or moving things, before he rushed home with the supplies. He never remained long enough to be disciplined, however; he knew that his father never considered him useful. Father always just seemed to tolerate his presence, like a pebble in his good boot. Jess looked up to his father and wanted to learn things, but father never seemed to have the time to teach him anymore; he only seemed to ever have time for May belle.

Jess roused himself from his thoughts. He was almost out and he couldn't afford to get distracted. He reprimanded himself for having his head in the clouds when he should have been paying attention. His father often chided him about paying more attention. Jess knew he was right. He promised himself he would do better.

The floor was cold against his bare feet as he looked about. In the dimness, he took in the familiar sights: his mother's spinning wheel set in the corner, the table and benches to the side of the room, and the now dead fire-pit in the center.

Jess sisters were sleeping in their straw pallets, their long hair tangled and strewn with hay. He slunk past them carefully, not wanting to risk waking them.

Jess peered at Mother's spinning wheel. The stool sat empty. He smiled at his luck, knowing Mother wouldn't be awake for another hour at least.

He looked to her bed and saw her slumbering contentedly, like a cat after a good meal. It was going to be a good day. He could feel it.

Jess was almost out the door when he heard her moan. He froze, turning to peer over his shoulder. He expected to see her waking and scolding him.

She was out cold. Heaving a silent sigh and whispering thanks to the gods above, Jess turned to leave, when he realized something: his little sister was missing. He turned back and loomed closer to mother's bed, holding his breath and peering carefully at the mattress. May belle was gone.

Wherever she was, he knew he couldn't stay and decided to escape while he still could. As he turned around to leave, he staggered to a stop.

May belle was standing right in front of him.

As he attempted to recover, his breathing coming in ragged pants, Jess watched her round little face staring up at him. Her hair was a long dark tangled mess with bits of straw still clinging to it that made him wonder if his own dark hair was so unkempt.

In spite of the early hour, her bright brown eyes showed no trace of sleep and as she looked up at him, May belle's features scrunched up with a suspicious little frown.

She spoke before he could.

"Where are you going?"

As he stared down at the naked little girl staring up at him, Jess sighed in resignation.

"Out" was all he told her.

She brightened with a sudden smile, her round cheeks puffing out all the more with her grin. "Can I come?"

Jess winced at her loud squawk. He peered at the others and saw they were still fast asleep. Jess glared down at her hopeful face. He didn't want her coming along, but he knew if she cried, his mother would be woken and he would get blamed for sure. He also wouldn't get out before dawn. His whole day would be ruined.

Jess knelt down close and thought of something that he knew would keep her quiet. He grabbed her bare shoulders and told her in a hushed tone that he was going to run fast, that she couldn't keep up and that if she tried to follow him, then he would tell everyone that she still wet the mattress when she slept.

Her face fell but Jess glared, challenging her to object. He knew she wanted to argue, but she mercifully pouted instead and went back to bed. As Jess watched her wrap herself in their mother's arms, he smiled. She actually believed he would tell. But then, May belle believed anything she was told. Jess sometimes thought that if he told her that their mother was eaten by trolls, she would run home crying to see if she had really been devoured.

He never told her anything like that, of course. He didn't want to be switched for a joke and it always seemed too cruel. Not that he cared much for his little sister, but he didn't like the idea of hurting her either.

He watched her a moment as she drifted to sleep.

Without sparing a moment's hesitation, Jess slipped out through the cloth covered doorway and into the open fields. As he ran through the pre-dawn gloom, he laughed. He had escaped the dungeon. His captors had tried their best to imprison him, but they were no match for his wits and cunning. As he ran through the open fields he realized that the rains had passed leaving behind the sweet aroma of moist earth.

To Jess it was the sweet smell of freedom.

As the late summer wind blew across his face, he pumped his legs as hard as he could. His willow switch, still tucked securely behind his belt, whacked against his legs with every step. He imagined the blows were the snapping jaws of a guard dog trying to take him down. Such thoughts gave him a fright and made him run even faster, his heart pounding wildly as he tore across the countryside. There were people about, a traveler on the road or a farmer already working, who waved to him, but Jess paid them no mind as he ran with all the fury of an unleashed animal.

As the forest finally came into view, he slowed up a bit. He was far out of the reach of his former captors and their relentless hounds; no one would ever find him in the woods.

As he breathlessly trotted through the tree-line, he drew his willow-switch sword.

It was time to begin.

Jess swung his willow switch, the tip whistling through the air as he cut down his foes.

"Take that, Fulcher!" he shouted, thrusting his sword through an invisible gut. "Take that, Hoager!" He swung the sword in an arc, lopping off a head. He parried and thrust a few more times, bringing the sword up and taking off a hand as they thrust back at him and bringing his weapon down again in a deadly arc to kill even more.

He laughed at his invisible foes' impotent swings as they failed to strike him down.

No one could stop him. He was invincible.

He suddenly realized they were coming in from behind. With a dramatic and somewhat ungraceful swing, he spun on his heel, bringing the willow switch around with him in a deadly sideways arc. To his surprise, the sword struck something solid, stopping in mid-air with a loud crack. Jess' sword-hand stung. His eyes went wide as he realized that his sword had made contact with another.

Jess suddenly found himself staring straight into the face of a girl.

"Hello," she said with a smile.

As Jess staggered back, his sword hand still extended, she casually used her own switch to knock his from his hand. It clattered to the ground far away. She pointed the end of her sword to his throat as she slowly approached, forcing him back against the trunk of an old willow tree. Jess had nowhere to go. His sword was well out of reach and grabbing her sword was against the rules. He was hers and they both knew it. His head tilted back, the tip of the girls' willow sword just under his chin, Jess swallowed hard at the deadly look in her eye.

He knew he was about to die.

He couldn't believe it. Just moments ago, he was invincible, defeating a dozen boys as they tried unsuccessfully to take him down, and now here he was, helpless as May belle, about to be slain by some dirty-faced blonde girl, no bigger than him.

_Girl,_ he thought bitterly. How could he lose to a girl? It was impossible. She must have cheated. She'd used some conniving girl-trick to deceive him and now she was going to win. It just wasn't fair. He was supposed to be invincible.

With a mischievous grin, the strange girl lowered her sword until it pointed at his chest. His eyes followed hers as she looked down at the sword point.

Jess held his breath. Her thrust came quicker than he expected and he grunted in pain as she playfully jabbed him in the ribs.

"You're dead," she cheerfully remarked.

Jess frowned at her inappropriate glee. It was an ill-gotten victory. He hadn't lost; he couldn't lose. He was invincible. She was just too dumb to know it. Jess felt his blood heating. He wanted to wipe that stupid smirk right off her face.

But Jess had no sword. He looked over to where it still lay on the ground, waiting for him. It was a good distance away, well out of reach. He wanted to roll across the ground, grab his sword, and come up swinging, but before he could even move a muscle, the girl walked over and plucked it up.

She had both swords now and he had none. He had gone from invincible to helpless; from knight to peasant, and it was entirely the strange girl's fault.

With rising ire, Jess suddenly realized that she had done it on purpose.

She was humiliating him.

As he sulked against the willow tree, not wanting to talk and wishing she would go jump in a creek, the girl calmly walked back over, both switches in hand.

She held his out by the tip, offering him the thicker end. "Here" was all she said.

Jess crossed his arms and pouted. He didn't want to play anymore. As the thick end of the sword sagged and her smile faded, Jess grunted in satisfaction; it was his first victory against the strange girl. She seemed to realize that he didn't have any intention of playing anymore, so she leaned the swords against the tree and offered him her hand instead.

"Jess, right?"

He gaped at her. How could she have known his name? It occurred to him then that she might be witch. That was how she had defeated him. She had used an evil spell to trick him. How else could anyone have beaten him so soundly?

But he had lost. It may have been that she was actually better. Curiosity overcoming his bitterness, Jess reached down and picked up his sword. He swished it about, letting the tip whistle a moment, before pointing it at her. She smiled and grabbed her own sword from the tree, swinging it about herself in a fairly good imitation of him. He smiled and thrust at her. She parried and side-stepped, tripping him as he went past. Jess staggered forward, landing face-down in the dirt.

As he spat grass and dried leaves, he could hear her laughing.

He felt the point of her switch poking his bottom. "Are you dead again?" she giggled. He shot to his feet and swung at her head. She ducked and calmly poked him in the gut. He grunted as she laughed. "I guess so," she teased. He tried again, only to receive a gentle slice across the throat as she gave him a fairly convincing beheading.

The girl giggled again. He swung at her leg. She stepped back out of reach and, to his surprise she knelt down with a sudden cry. Jess rushed forward to see if she was alright. As he reached her, she stabbed him in the gut. She snickered at having successfully gulled him. Jess fumed; she was making a fool out of him.

With a burst of anger, he knocked her sword away. She gasped as her switch flew off to the side, leaving her naked to his blade. Jess had her. She was unarmed and he could do as he pleased with his prisoner. A hundred giddy thoughts of what to do with her, now that he finally had her, paraded through his head unchecked.

Now that she was helpless, he could make her pay a heavy price for having humiliated him. But before he could decide on which punishment to inflict on his victim, she rolled across the ground towards her sword, snatched it up and dispatched him again.

Had it been a real fight, the smooth slice she gave him across his belly would have sent his guts spilling out across the cold, leaf-strewn ground—a most painful and humiliating way to die. Jess was impressed.

He tried to take her down again and got a playful whack across his bottom for his trouble, the thin material of his brown wool trousers doing nothing to lessen the sting. He growled as she laughed. She just wouldn't stop smiling. It was infuriating.

Nothing was working; every time he went on the offensive, she blocked, parried and bested him. He couldn't get past her defenses—at least, not in the usual way.

Jess stopped attacking for a moment and began walking in a wide circle around her, thinking about how to get at her. Twigs snapped under his bare feet as he stepped, carefully considering this ordinary girl that had come to mock him. Jess appraised her critically. She was indeed his size—and even somewhat skinnier than he was, with spindly arms and legs. Her dirty, jaw-length blonde hair was matted and ruffled and even held a leaf or two, as if she had been sleeping in the forest.

In spite of her skill, she didn't appear to be all that dangerous.

Her clothes were simple; her pants looked to be made of the same cheap wool as his, and her simple blue shirt had more than its share of stains. She seemed like she had been traveling for a while. Jess frowned at his appraisal. The only real difference in their clothing—besides her high black boots, which made her seem even stranger—was the brown wool vest she wore over her dark blue shirt.

She seemed simple enough, he figured, but Jess knew she was anything but stupid.

She was a very dangerous adversary.

As Jess continued his careful examination of this deadly foe, she waited for him to come. He watched her intently as she suppressed that stupid girl smile of hers. She made no move to attack him, instead choosing to watch with what seemed a kind of giddy anticipation.

She waited, slowly turning in place to keep her eyes on him as he made his way around the dimly lit clearing. The crunch of leaves under her high black boots mixed with the gentle breeze as she circled him in turn. The sight of her boots made him want to laugh; they would look normal on a boy but to see a girl wearing them was beyond strange. Jess chided himself to remain focused; he knew he had to take this enemy seriously. She was crafty and he had to be careful. He didn't attack her right off, as he had done before; that wasn't working.

His imaginary foes had been accommodating, giving him what he had wanted: an easy victory. But this stranger was not imaginary, nor was she accommodating.

She was challenging.

Jess began to realize he was having more fun fighting her than he had fighting alone.

As he watched her annoying smile growing, he realized that he was smiling, too. A trick, he told himself, to make him fail again. This time, he didn't believe it. She wasn't trying to trick him. She wasn't a witch, she was just a girl and he could defeat any girl.

Except this girl.

He threw his sword on the ground at her feet.

It was over.

He surrendered.

She frowned down at the sword. She picked it up and tossed it back to him. He caught it and tossed it on the ground at her feet again, shaking his head. She picked it up again and tried to give it back to him. She just didn't seem to understand.

Maybe she didn't want it to be over. He guessed she wasn't done humiliating him.

But he was finished being humiliated by her. He didn't want to play with her anymore. The sun was rising high, the day growing hotter and Jess was more than a little tired. In fact, he was exhausted. They were both panting with the effort of having tried so hard to outdo each other, and only then did Jess realize how much of a sweat he had worked up.

She was sweating too, he noticed, and they both smelled like animals. They both needed a bath and he seriously thought about jumping in a river before going home; his mother would toss him out if he came back home smelling like a horse.

His mother…

Icy panic rippled through him at the thought of his mother. In all the excitement of their duel, Jess had lost track of time. He had completely forgotten about his chores. He had to get back home at least in time for breakfast, or his mother would twist his ears off. Jess glanced at the sun, cringing at how high it had reached into the early morning sky. He had to hurry; there wasn't much time.

Without a word, Jess snatched his sword from the girl. She jumped back, her sword raised, ready for another attack. Ignoring her, he slipped the sword back behind his belt. "Gotta go," he called, running out of the woods, leaving the girl alone.

He tried to forget her as he rushed off towards home. He thought about how scrawny she looked, as if she had never had enough to eat. He thought that maybe he should have invited her to come home with him, but he had no idea how his mother would react to him bringing home strangers. He guessed she wouldn't have appreciated it.

He put aside his thoughts as home finally came into view. The wild grass gave way to the packed dirt of his barren front yard, kept clear by the countless years of livestock and human footsteps. The old wooden steps of his porch creaked under his weight threatening to give under him one day. Jess ignored their complaint and as he came through the cloth-covered doorway, he could see that May belle was already awake and dressed and that his mother had breakfast cooking on the hearth: eggs with bacon, his favorite. The aroma of cooking meat reminded him that he hadn't eaten. His stomach grumbled with eager anticipation.

"Good morning, Mother," he said, his eyes locked on the skillet.

She smiled at him and returned the greeting. He watched his mother as she returned to her work at the fire pit. Jess thought his mother was a handsome woman. She was as tall as his father but not broad, as some women looked. She was in good health though, and when she would swat his bottom or twist his ear to make him sit, he knew she was strong.

Jess looked her over as she turned back to cooking. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a horse-tail to keep from falling in the fire when she leaned over. Her dress was a simple, light red that had faded from years of washing and mending. He wished he could buy her new cloth for a dress. There were shops in town where you could buy cloth, but he never had any money. He wished he had some money to buy her things she deserved.

Mother looked tired, but she kept smiling as she motioned for him to sit, while shooing May belle away from the fire. Jess yawned and took his seat as his older sisters set the table. He wanted to help, but Mother told him to save his strength for his chores. He agreed as he sat down to rest noticing that the plates and spoons were already in place, beside the cups, which she was already in the process of filling.

Jess drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he waited impatiently for the eggs to cook. He glared at May belle when she told him how much he stank. His older sisters were giving him dirty looks as well. They all looked clean. They must have bathed while he was gone.

Before he could consider how much he would like to avoid a bath, his sisters started in on him. "Mother," Brenda complained, "he stinks. He has to _bathe_ before he eats, that's the rule."

Mother glared at her. "Don't you tell me the rules young lady—I made them."

If there was one thing mother didn't like, it was being talked against. But Brenda was right so mother told him to wash up. Her voice was gentle, but he knew she was serious.

Jess heaved a sigh and hauled himself off the bench. As he stumbled over to the wash basin, he glared at his sister for making him get up. His muscles burned with protest but he ignored their demand for rest. As he peered over the surface, he realized it was filled with dirty water. Brenda bathed last and hadn't bothered herself with the chore of empting the basin, which left Jess to do it, as with most things Brenda didn't finish. She thought she was better than to live on a farm and for all her life she had made her feelings very clear. One day, she often said, she would marry a man with wealth and status and be a noblewoman and have everything she wanted and would never suffer the indignity of farmland labor again. Ellie was of a similar mind, often saying she was too busy to be bothered with this or that, leaving her lowly peasant brother to do her work instead. The way they strutted around the farm made Jess think they were already members of the nobility—at least in their own minds.

What he wouldn't give for some nobleman to come and marry them. Then they would be gone from his life. Of course, after that, he would have to do all the work by himself.

Jess sighed and lifted the basin off the little table, spilling the dirty water onto the floor. It absorbed into the earth and he stood there, watching it for a moment, wishing he could disappear as easily.

"May Belle," he called, "fetch my shirt."

He heard her scurry off to get it. Annoying as she was, he found her useful sometimes. He lifted the ewer and refilled the basin with fresh water. Jess splashed some on his skin. It prickled against his hot flesh like icy needles. As he scrubbed his face the smell of the eggs and woodsmoke fought him for attention, but right then, all he could think about was the water and how much it stung. He shivered for a moment before grabbing a drying cloth and toweling off. Jess figured if he stood by the fire he might warm up a bit.

Before he could move, May Belle showed up right next to him, handing him his shirt and smiling like she had brought him a sack of gold. Ignoring her, he slipped the treasure on his back and glanced at the water in the basin, surprised to find how much dirt he had scrubbed from himself; he thought he could plant potatoes with the grit he had left. Feeling a better about being a bit cleaner, he tipped over the basin and refilled it again.

Jess still wasn't very clean and he decided to go out to the pond for a bath after he ate. It was the least he could do. As he resumed his place at the table, clean in his red shirt, he thought about the girl in the woods and how much she needed a bath. He wouldn't tell them about her; how could he ever explain losing a sword fight, and to a girl, no less?

After an endless moment, Mother pronounced breakfast served and carried over the hot skillet to fill their plates. Jess tried not to show how much he was looking forward to a good meal. Having worked up an appetite fighting the stranger, he was more than ready to eat. Jess watched intently as his mother dumped his share of eggs onto his plate. He looked up to thank her when she stopped and stared at something. Jess glanced at May belle and Ellie sitting directly across from him and noticed that they, too, were staring. He put down his fork and craned his neck to see what everyone was looking at that was more interesting than the steaming pile of eggs.

As he caught sight of their object of interest, his eyes went wide.

Standing in the doorway was the dirty-faced blonde girl he thought he had left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Early praise for **_**The New Life**_**:**

"…inventive and intriguing..." —_Emily Macdonald_, _Macdonald Weekly_.

"…interesting and original…" —_G-Matt, G-Matt_ _Journal._

"…a brilliant concept!" —_Lyle Padilla_, _The_ _MadTom Times_.

Now, the story continues…

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 2**

The girl was just standing there, like some lonesome traveler afraid to enter a sacred place. She was staring at him, breathing hard, her filthy face carrying the slightest hint of a smile.

He was just about to shout his exasperation when his mother's gentle voice filled the silence. "Oh, hello." Jess half-expected her horse-tail hair to start wagging at the sight of the new visitor. She gently set the skillet down and brushed her hands together as she approached the strange girl. Ellie picked up the skillet and proceeded to serve the eggs as their mother greeted their new guest, stopping in front of her and offering her hand. "Who would you be, dear?"

Before she could answer, Jess jumped up and rushed over to her side; he had to get things under control before they both got into trouble. "Oh, um, Mother, this is, uh…" he stuttered to a stop as he realized he had never bothered to learn the girl's name. To his surprise, she stepped forward, accepting mother's hand.

"My name's Leslie, Ma'am."

Mother's smile widened. "Hello, Leslie. It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you," she said. "You too."

"So, Leslie… is there anything more to your name?"

She hesitated a moment. "Well, ma'am, my family name is Wilkins."

It was a lie.

Jess wasn't sure how he knew, but he was sure that Wilkins wasn't her real name. He didn't call her on it, instead waiting to see how everything would play out. He stole glances at his sisters to see if they sensed something strange about her. Brenda and Ellie had already gone back to eating and May Belle was too young to understand anything, so Jess realized he was alone in his suspisons; they either didn't know what he new, or they didn't care.

As Mother spoke again, Jess returned his attention to the meeting. His mother was gently shaking Leslie's slender hand. "Leslie Wilkins, then. Does your family live around here?"

Leslie shook her blonde head. "I'm afraid not, Ma'am." Her eyes turned down. "My family isn't... around anymore."

Mother clutched her dishtowel to her chest, her brown eyes filling with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Leslie. You can stay with us if you like." When Leslie nodded her thanks, mother added, "I'm Mary Aarons. You can call me Mrs. Aarons." Mother shot Jess a scolding look. "Jess," she admonished, "You should have told me you were bringing someone home with you for breakfast; I would have made extra."

Jess stammered and tried to come up with a way to explain what had happened, one that didn't make him seem a fool. Before he could, his Mother motioned towards the table. "We have plenty anyway, Leslie, if you're hungry."

Leslie smiled that annoying smile of hers and accepted the invitation. Jess sighed. He was relieved that everything gone smoothly, but, at the same time, he was aggravated that he would now have to share his eggs; there wouldn't be as many for him. Leslie had worked up his appetite in the duel, almost gotten him in trouble for being late and now she would be taking away half his food. He ground his teeth.

Leslie set down the sack she had brought and calmly sat in Jess' place on the bench. Jess sat down next her. Sitting directly across from him, May Belle smiled. Jess glared and her smile vanished.

As Mother sat, they bowed their heads to pray, giving thanks to the gods for the meal before them. They didn't normally pray at breakfast, but they had a guest so he figured they were supposed to impress her. Jess was hungry and in no mood to offer up thanks to anyone, but knowing it would do no good to argue, he whispered along with Mother's prayer, not caring whether or not he got it right. If he didn't, no one corrected him. The gods certainly didn't seem to mind. They probably weren't listening anyway. As Mother completed the prayer, everyone began talking, free from their obligation.

Without hesitation, Leslie snatched up his fork and dug into the pile of steaming eggs. She ate with such gusto that everyone else stopped and stared a moment. After watching her feast awhile, Ellie and Brenda shared a look before they set to eating as well. Leslie picked up Jess' full cup of cider and drank it down in a second. Mother refilled it and she drank half again. Mother laughed quietly at her guest's good appetite as she slid some sizziling strips of bacon onto her plate. Leslie absently grabbed the hot meat, burning her fingers. She jerked her hand back with a cry. Jess watched as she sucked her thin digits clean of the hot grease before taking another drink.

Jess stared silently as she cleaned her plate, the plate that was once his. He couldn't believe a girl as skinny as her could eat so much. As thin as she was, Jess guessed that she must not have eaten for a week. He looked up at the sound of his mother clearing her throat. She motioned to the plate before him. He thought she meant for him to give his eggs to Leslie. It took a moment for him to realize she meant he wasn't eating.

Having been transfixed by Leslie's gluttonous appetite, Jess wasn't even aware that there had been a full plate placed before him. He immediately set to eating and found the eggs to be almost cooled, with the bacon right behind it. He savored the simple flavors. Everything was delicious--doubly so, he thought, because of his hunger. He ate a full plate that morning and looked forward to the apples he had been promised for desert. Leslie was way ahead of him, cupping the apple in both hands as it was handed to her and crunching into it with a satisfied moan. He had never seen anyone so happy for a meal before. Jess reasoned that she must have followed him home for it.

Jess didn't like uninvited guests and he resented her presumption at having taken his place at the table—not to mention his food—but what bothered him the most was the fact that she was dishonest. Her name wasn't "Wilkins" and she didn't belong with them. Jess didn't know what her game was or what she wanted. He didn't trust her. He wished she'd go away.

As he watched Leslie devouring her apple, and took a bite of his own, Jess considered her clothing. He suspected she had stolen the vest, as nice as it was. He figured she must be a runaway—maybe a slave that escaped from some traders. Jess shuddered at the thought of what it must have been like for her under the lash. He considered himself a slave, but it wasn't really the same, as he was with his family and they treated him somewhat decently and made sure he always had enough to eat. Judging from her voracious appetite, Leslie probably hadn't been fed in a month.

He strongly suspected her impish grin had something to do with that fact.

The thought of what trouble might come from harboring a runaway slave gave Jess a worry deep in his gut; he didn't want to be taken away as a slave for repayment. His new masters would be swift and cruel; they would drag him away from his home and family and lock him in a cage like a dog. Then he and Leslie would be together all the time.

The notion was probably just nonsense, he told himself.

At least, he hoped it was.

Jess put those thoughts aside as he resumed watching Leslie eat. She probably wasn't a slave; she was too small for hard labor anyway.

Jess quickly slurped down the rest of his cider and stood to clear the table. His Mother motioned for him to sit while she and May Belle took care of it. Ellie and Brenda were already heading out the door to start their chores and Jess could hear them whispering to each other about his "filthy new wife." His ears were burning as he listened to the two of them arguing about who stunk worse, when they suddenly went silent. He turned around to glare, thinking they were staring at him, when he saw them back into the house.

Jess felt a chill run through him. The sudden light pouring in from the open door flap was blocked by a towering figure. Jess shivered at the sight. Father was home.

A tall man, their father was an imposing figure. His broad shoulders and calloused hands told of his life working the fields of other families and repair work in shops in Westwood. His tanned face was weathered, giving his visage the appearance of worn leather. Somehow, the deep creases in his features made him more intimidating.

He ran a calloused hand back over his short-cropped hair as he strode past his daughters. He kept it trimmed because of his recent work for the blacksmith. It wasn't good to have long hair around a large fire. Jess shrunk down on the bench and tried his best to disappear.

Then he remembered Leslie.

Father walked around the table, explaining to mother that a bit had snapped but he had another. He thanked the gods and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. As he kissed Mother on the cheek and made for the door, he noticed Leslie.

"Who are you?"

Leslie stood, dipping her head in a slight bow as she smiled up into his harsh brown eyes. "My name is Leslie, sir. Leslie Wilkins."

Jess couldn't believe she was cheerful. It could have been no more shocking to him if she was happy to see a hungry bear. Father looked like he was about to say something, when Mother caught his arm and gently pulled him aside.

The conversation was hushed, but Jess knew what they were talking about: they were arguing whether or not to let Leslie stay. Jess wasn't sure how he felt. He thought for sure he would be hoping his father would send her away, but part of him hoped they would let her remain. His father argued about how things were and that they couldn't afford it and his mother pleaded that she looked about the same size as Jess and then lied that she didn't eat a whole lot. Jess tried not to smile at how smoothly his mother was handling his father. He tried even harder not to laugh at the recent memory of Leslie's "modest" appetite.

His mother then made one final argument; one so low Jess couldn't hear it. He could tell by the way his mother had glanced over at him and spoke more softly that she was talking about him and she didn't want him to know. Jess blushed at the thought of what she might be saying.

After a few more minutes, his ears catching only bits of words, his father turned to the two of them. He looked at Leslie. "I guess you can stay as long as you earn your keep." He turned his attention to Jess. "You get your chores done, yet?"

"Just about to," Jess grumbled. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of Leslie staying. But then he realized it wasn't his decision to make.

Having finished breakfast, Jess left Leslie to help his mother with the household duties, and watched his father leave before walking out to the bean patch. He was alone at last.

Squatting in the patch, he looked around at the beans. They looked ripe for picking and as Jess grabbed the bucket, he reached for the first few. He paused as a shadow fell over him. Squinting against the harsh outline of sunlight, he recognized the silhouette of an all-too-familiar girl.

"What are you doing here?" He had made no effort to keep the sourness out of his voice.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm supposed to help you."

Jess grunted. "Girls aren't supposed to work out-of-doors, Leslie." She didn't even know that much.

"Your mother told me I should come help you," she quietly explained.

He looked away as she knelt down beside him. She pulled some blonde hair behind an ear and smiled. As she reached for the bucket, he shifted away from her.

As they worked in the bean patch, he fully expected her to talk him to death. Instead, she sat quietly, performing the same tedious chore and saying nothing. He was glad for that. She sighed once, out of boredom, he supposed, and showed him a tight-lipped smile when he occasionally glanced her way, but other than that, she remained mercifully silent.

The wind blew through the nearby trees, ruffling her jaw-length blonde hair. Birds chirped in the early morning light, but still neither Jess nor his new helper said a word. As morning dragged on and the silence became unbearable, Jess considered speaking. He didn't know what he should say to her, but he did know what was on his mind. He wondered who she was and where she had come from, but, most of all, he wondered how she had gotten to be sitting next to him in the bean patch that day.

Deciding it was better to say something than to let the silence swallow them both, Jess looked over at the new girl and asked her the first thing he could think to ask.

"H-How did you get here?"

She started at his question; she hadn't been paying attention. Recovering herself, she cleared her throat and answered, "Oh, I, um… I followed you."

"So… you stole a horse?"

She frowned. "No, I ran."

Jess laughed, but as he began to realize her comment was serious, his laughter faded. He scowled over at her. "Fine," he snapped, "don't tell me. I was just asking." He plunked another bean in the bucket and looked the other way.

"I _did_ tell you," she grumbled, "I chased after you."

He looked over at her. "Look, you've got to stop that; my family doesn't like liars."

She added another bean as her face soured. "I'm not lying."

It sounded to him as if he had irritated her. Jess smiled inwardly at having successfully annoyed the girl who had caused him grief. When he looked up at her scowl, he flinched; she looked ready to start a fight. He looked back down at the dirt and shrugged. "I'm the fastest runner in the whole area." He grinned at her sheepishly. "You couldn't have kept up with me." It came out as more of a plea than an argument and he found himself hoping she would accept it.

Her hand dropped a few more beans as she continued. "I'm pretty fast too, you know." She smirked. "Although I did have a time keeping slow enough to stay behind you."

He glared at her. "That's not funny, Leslie." Her smile didn't fade.

"Aw, c'mon, Jess, admit it," she cajoled, nudging his arm. "I'm much faster than you." She grabbed up a handful of beans and dropped them in the bucket as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. Then she smiled at him. "And I'm a lot better with a sword, too."

Jess' hand paused, hovering above the bucket. He still didn't believe she was as fast as he was, but he knew for a fact that she was better at swordplay; she had already proven it. He just couldn't understand her.

He looked around the patch for a few minutes, checking to see that they had cleared the area of beans. Seeing they had, he grabbed the coarse rope handle on the bucket, thinking about everything she had just told him. As he crawled across the ground, dragging the bucket with him, she followed and stopped in an un-harvested spot. They looked around and smiled at each other. They began picking and he asked her about her talents. "How come you're so good at it?"

She combed her unruly hair back from her face and looked over at him. "Good at what?"

"Swordplay. I mean you're really good at it—for a girl."

"The same reason I'm fast," she smirked, "—for a girl."

Jess shrugged. "You know what I mean."

She gathered more beans and tossed them in the bucket. "Hey, you're pretty good at swordplay, too—" she smirked again, "—for a boy."

Jess laughed. "Okay, okay, truce." She laughed too.

He wasn't exactly sure, but there was something about this girl, something important. He watched her silently as she picked beans and crawled around in the dirt. She did it gracefully; at least as gracefully as one could be while crawling through a bean patch. Even when she sat back on her heels, she did so with her back upright, not slouching, like him. She seemed strange somehow, as if she didn't really belong in this world, in the dirt. He didn't know why.

Whatever the reason, he felt a strange connection to her. It was if he knew her—as if he had always known her, as if it mattered a great deal if she was with him and that she was happy and safe. It mattered to him that he was there beside her.

Shaking his head, Jess put aside such silly thoughts; he had just met her. He didn't know anything about this girl, except that her name was 'Wilkins' and he was pretty sure that that was a lie. There was nothing special about her, he told himself—nothing at all.

All in all, she was just an ordinary girl.

But the way she moved, the way she fought, the way she sat, and the way she spoke, just didn't seem to fit with the image before him. She was just a filthy peasant girl, a nobody, like him. But she acted more like nobility.

Or royalty.

Jess almost laughed aloud at the thought of Leslie as a princess. It was madness; a royal princess, digging around in the dirt like a pig sniffing for roots. He let the images run free through his mind: A royal girl, meant for the throne, running away and becoming friends with a nobody like him. It almost sounded like a story that his mother used to tell him, about a princess who ran away to live as a peasant girl. She ended up stuck, with no way back and had to learn to live as a poor farm worker. In the end, she married a simple workman and was very happy. He had loved the story when he was little, but now it just seemed absurd. It was the kind of story that May Belle would enjoy.

Jess sat back and smiled. _The Princess and the Bean Patch. _The story sounded good to him and he decided to tell it to her when she went to bed. He pictured the look of wonder on her face when he spoke of the princess and of how Leslie was trying not to be found out.

She would believe him; May Belle believed everything he told her.

It occurred to him then that Leslie would be joining them that night and he hoped she wouldn't spoil the story by denying it. It would be fun to watch May Belle bowing to Leslie, believing she really was a princess. They would both have a good laugh that night.

As Jess watched her work, she glanced over at him. He realized he was staring at her and quickly looked away, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Why were you staring at me?"

"I wasn't," he lied.

"Well, do I have something on my face?"

He shrugged. "How should I know?" He still didn't look.

She threw a bean at him. "You should know; you were staring at me for ten minutes!"

He peered over at her. There was nothing on her face, other than the thin layer of dirt. Jess wondered what she looked like without the dirt. He realized he was smiling again.

"No, there's nothing there," he smirked. "Just you're ugly face."

She threw another bean at him. It bounced off his head and landed in the bucket. They both laughed. She did it again and, before he could talk her out of it, Leslie had turned it into a game, bouncing beans of his head and trying to get them into the bucket. He held still and let her finish before telling her it was his turn. She backed away, telling him that it wouldn't work because she didn't have as thick a skull as he did. He grinned and threw the whole handful at her, the both of them laughing as she fell back with a shriek.

Jess laughed even harder at the wonder of it all; working in the bean patch had never seemed so much fun.

* * * * *

Lunch was served at noon: bowls of pottage filled with peas, carrots, beans, onions. Jess wasn't sure what else had been added to the pot, but it sure smelled good. The aromas tickled his nose with sweet promise as he sat down on the bench, Leslie at his side. As he glanced at her, he again noticed her unusual posture.

She was sitting with her back straight and her hands were folded in her lap. She seemed to be someone who didn't much belong on an old bench in front of a rickety table. She appeared perfectly comfortable but something was still off. Jess couldn't define it, but it seemed like she didn't fit with everything else in the room. He felt disoriented, as if he were watching a walking fish. It just didn't seem right. The image of her, despite her peasant garb and filthy appearance, just didn't seem to belong with their modest surroundings.

After a moment, Leslie noticed him looking. He quickly looked away and occupied himself with watching his mother and May Belle spooning the steaming pottage into their simple wooden bowls. He was sure Leslie would be watching them too, as hungry as she must be and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her blushing and he silently cursed himself for being caught; she would think he was staring because he liked her.

The truth was that he was beginning to think that maybe he did. Leslie wasn't like his sisters; she treated him with respect—most of the time. He wasn't sure why. He figured she must have had no friends and was desperate for someone to talk with. He smiled to her as he passed her a steaming bowl of pottage. As he stirred his own, he risked another glance. She was blowing on her first spoonful, obviously eager to get at the meal.

When she saw him staring this time, he didn't look away. He just smiled. She smiled back. For some reason, Jess found her presence calming and, at the same time, thrilling. He didn't know what she would do next.

He saw May Belle staring at the two of them, then. She was smiling too.

He frowned. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," she teased.

Jess rolled his eyes and went back to his stirring. He looked up again and saw his little sister, her plump face still staring and smiling.

He glared at her. "What?" he growled.

"Nothing," she insisted.

When he went back to his pottage, he heard her singing.

"Jess and Leslie, sitting in a tree…"

He shot up and chased her all around the room, circling the table twice before their mother chased the two of them back to the table with the help of her wooden cook-spoon. Mother thumped him on the back of his head as he sat back down.

One look to the side showed him that Leslie was trying her best not to laugh at their antics.

He smiled and tried not to laugh as well. Jess pondered her for awhile as he finally dug in to his pottage. What was it about Leslie that always made everything seem funny? What was it about her that made him smile? Where did she come from and what did she really want?

Jess decided it wasn't important where she had come from; all that mattered was that he was happy when she was with him and he was sure she felt the same.

As the day wore on, they moved to other chores. Jess was delighted to find that his new friend was good at everything and that the work went faster with the extra help. Leslie worked without compliant, doing whatever was asked of her. Jess suspected she would do all the work herself if he sat back and allowed it. He knew his mother wouldn't allow it, though; she wanted him working too.

By mid-afternoon, the chores were complete. Jess had rarely finished his chores before supper and he found himself confused as to what to do with the extra time. May Belle didn't know what to do either and as they were walking out of the house after they had finished cleaning up, Leslie broke the awkward silence. "Well, that was fun!"

Jess frowned at her. "Doing chores all day seems a pretty weird way to have fun."

"Well," she asked with a shy smile, "what's _your _idea of having fun?"

Jess shrugged. "I-I don't know."

Leslie continued her game. "Well... do you want to do something?"

"Yeah," May Belle, walking between them, chimed in. "Let's do something, definitely." She looked up at Jess. "What should we do?"

He frowned down at her, "You can't do it."

"Do what?" she whined.

"What _we're_ doing."

Jess and Leslie shared a conspiratorial smile as May Belle sighed and walked back to the house. Leslie called to her. May Belle turned back but didn't smile as Leslie continued, "You want me to play dolls with you later?"

May Belle's grin was so big Jess could see the gaps between her baby teeth. "Really?"

Leslie nodded. "Sure."

May Belle's grinned widened even more. "Thanks!" She turned back towards the house.

As she ran off, Leslie turned to him. "You're lucky to have a sister," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I've got four of them and I'd trade them all for a good dog."

Leslie rolled her eyes and sighed in longing. "I'd love to have a dog."

Jess looked back at the house. He thought about May Belle's rare compliance with his wishes and nudged Leslie. "C'mon," he whispered, "let's go before she tells my mother."

"Race you to the end of the road," Leslie exclaimed. "On your mark, get set, go!"

And just like that, they were off, running at full speed down the road, kicking up dust as they blazed a trail towards the open fields. Jess pumped his legs and controlled his breathing as much as he could, but he soon saw her doing the same. It wasn't long before Leslie pulled out ahead of him and began calling back to him to keep up the pace. He tried harder to catch her but she remained ahead of him the whole time, laughing and jeering him for his slowness. Jess couldn't catch her up and settled for watching the sunlight as it beamed down on them as they made their way across the grasslands.

As fast as he flew, he just couldn't keep up with her. Jess thought she must be part bird. She ran as though it were her nature, as if it was all she was meant to do and Jess was just someone trying to imitate her. He soon watched helplessly as she crossed into the trees ahead, resting on the first one she found. As he reached the edge of the woods, he trotted to a stop. Leslie turned back to him and smiled. She won the race. They stood panting, and she looked about for a place to sit. He gestured to a fallen log and she took a seat next to him. Jess clapped her on the shoulder. "You really are the fastest person alive," he managed between panting breaths.

"Yeah," she conceded, "but you're really fast, yourself."

He nodded his appreciation and swiped a lock of brown hair back from his sweaty face. As they cooled down, the two of them looked about for the clearing where their play-fight had taken place. Twigs, rocks and the occasional bit of stray moss covered the ground but they saw no indication of the tracks they had left that day. Jess began to suspect they were in the wrong part of the forest.

As he looked over to tell her, she suddenly pushed herself up and walked away.

"Leslie, where did you ever learn to fight anyway?"

She glanced at him, her expression a questioning frown.

"Sword-fighting," he clarified. "Where did you learn to swordfight?"

She shrugged. "Around" was all she said. She didn't seem to want to talk about it. He didn't think she would tell him and his father had told him that a person's past was their own business. His mother had told him that friends don't tell everything and that they can keep secrets if they wish. He sighed. They were right. If Leslie didn't want to tell him her secrets, who was he to force her?

As they made their way into the woods, he looked her over again. His gaze roamed her ruffled jaw-length blonde hair. It was a pretty color, golden like the sunshine on the wheatfields and looked to be as soft as the clouds but he wondered how it would look if it were all combed out, straight and orderly. Jess grunted. He couldn't picture her hair straight, no matter how hard he tried. He glanced down at her brown vest and dirty blue shirt. The same old stains told him nothing he didn't already know; they seemed natural, yet, at the same time, they seemed to be lying to him.

Suddenly, Jess knew why.

They were part of her disguise.

"Who are you, Leslie?" he wondered aloud. "Who are you, really?"

She turned back to face him. "Nobody," she answered flatly. "Just a drifter girl, tumbling around, looking for a place to live."

Jess didn't buy it. She had to have lived somewhere. Girls didn't just spring up from the ground like weeds. Judging from the dirt, though, he thought maybe she had.

He rolled his eyes and continued his examination. As he saw her pants, he noticed something odd. It seemed like something was missing.

The answer hit him like his mother's wooden spoon. "Leslie! You've lost your sword!"

Leslie frowned. "What are you going on about?"

He pointed at her hip. "Your sword," he repeated. "It's gone!"

She glanced down at her belt. "Oh, right. I guess I left it in the woods." She absently stroked her slender fingers over the spot on her hip. "I do kind of miss it."

Jess was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe a warrior of her skill and talent had just "forgotten" her sword. He put his hand to his hot face and let out a moan. "Leslie… I just don't understand you. How could you just 'forget' your weapon?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I just dropped it." She scowled at him. "I had to hurry to chase you, remember?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"Well," she sighed, "I can always make a new one. There are plenty of sticks around here to use."

He looked about. She was right. There were plenty of willow trees to choose from. Jess turned to ask which she wanted and found her missing. "Leslie?"

"Over here!"

He hurried and caught up with her as she crossed a slight ditch on a fallen log, her spindly arms extended to either side for balance. He climbed up after her. "Where are you going?"

"To find my new sword."

She worked her way to the center before stopping to turn back to him. She gave him a teasing grin. "When I find it, maybe I'll teach you to use it properly."

He gave her a sour look as she turned back to the forest. It was quiet, except for the odd chirping of a distant bird. It seemed a peaceful place. Jess was calmed by the silence. The shade was welcoming. It felt good to get way from the farm, with the hot sun and his pestering family. He felt as if he could truly be free in this place. As long as he was with Leslie, he was free. She didn't pester him or ask him for things. She just let him keep his thoughts to himself as they made their way deeper into the woods. Jess watched the twigs snap beneath her heavy black boots. He had simple leather shoes, but his feet were so callosued and tough he didn't need them. Twigs and rocks beneath his soles didn't bother him much at all. Leslie proabably had delicate feet. He felt a bit of pride in having an advantage over her. He kept the thought to himself as he followed her to a sunny spot. She continued walking and soon she stopped near a small creek, taking a seat on a large dark log. Jess climbed up next to her and sighed. He still didn't like what she had suggested.

"What do you mean you'll teach me how to use it properly?" he argued. "I think I do all right with a sword."

He waited for her answer. When it didn't come, he nudged her. She started and looked over at him, seeming surprised and a bit irritated by his bringing her out of her thoughts.

"What did you say?"

"I said I don't think I need you to teach me how to use a sword. I can do it myself. I do fine on my own," he said. "I don't need some _girl_ to tell me how to fight."

This time she brought her full attention to the argument. She folded her arms and glowered at him. Jess saw her almond-shaped eyes narrow in menace. "What does my being a girl have to do with it?"

Jess shrugged, trying not to smile at having successfully nettled her. "I don't know; it's just that boys are better at this stuff than girls."

She frowned. "I beat you, Jess."

"Just once," he reminded her. "And you just got lucky, that's all." Jess knew she hadn't gotten lucky; she was much more skilled with a blade and he was hoping to find out why. She didn't seem to want to talk about herself and he figured he could trick her into it by appealing to her vanity. Jess knew from his sisters that girls were very vain. He scratched his head. "I-I don't think getting lucky qualifies you as an expert swordsman."

"Swords_woman_," she corrected.

He laughed. "_Lucky fighter_ is what you are."

Her frown melted into a fiery scowl. "I'm better than you and you know it."

Jess knew she was, but she still wasn't ready to prove it. He sighed and slipped his bottom off the log. "Well, I guess we'd better head home." He stretched. "We don't want to be late for supper." He turned to leave but Leslie's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"You're not going anywhere, Jess Aarons—not until I teach you a lesson."

Jess opened his mouth to say something clever, but seeing the fierce look in her blue-green eyes, he immediately thought better of it. In spite of her withering glower, Jess smiled inwardly—he had succeeded in gulling her and now she was playing right into his trap. "Alright," he said, trying not to sound too excited. "Teach me."

She grunted her compliance and released his shoulder with a shove. Her almond-shaped eyes searched the ground for something. Then she smiled. She had found a willow switch. Leslie plucked it up and twirled it in her fingers, testing it for balance. She swished it through the air and slapped it hard against a rock a couple times to be sure it was sturdy before she tossed it to him. He caught it and swirled it about as he made his way into the sunlit clearing away from the creek. Jess looked around for her sword but her voice made him stop.

"Come at me."

He blinked. "But you don't have a sword."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Jess; just come at me."

Jess thought she must be crazy. He figured she was. Sighing, he realized she couldn't be reasoned with and he quickly obliged her. He raised his arm and yelling a battle-cry, drove his willow sword towards her in a headlong charge. He had just about reached her when something unexpected occurred: Leslie disappeared. She was no longer there. Jess hesitated. He felt her slender fingers grip his wrist. He cried out and tried to turn to see her. She moved with such swiftness he couldn't keep track of her movements and the next thing he knew, she had twisted the sword out of his hand and shoved him back with her elbow. He fell backward and landed hard on his bottom.

He gaped up at her. Leslie had the sword. She casually walked over to him and poked him in the gut, smiling at her easy victory. "You're dead."

He tried to get up but she poked him again. "You're dead again."

He lay there for awhile waiting for her to let him up; he didn't want to get poked again. Judging from the smile she wore, he reasoned that she didn't have any intention of ever letting him up, so he asked a question instead. "How did you do that?"

The question wiped the smile from her face and as she lowered her sword, she looked away. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I-I just… figured it out on my own."

"You're lying, Leslie." He shook his head. "You aren't telling me the truth. People are supposed to be honest with each other. If you want to keep the secret, fine, just don't lie to me again."

She seemed to consider this a moment. Finally, she extended her hand and helped him up. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

She handed him the sword and sat back down on the great log. She motioned for him to sit next to her. As he did, she began speaking.

"I was born a servant," she whispered. "I was raised in a castle around others like me. They were all nice and the place was safe. I learned sword-fighting from the soldiers who served there as guards." She smiled distantly. "They taught me how to fight."

Jess was stunned. He couldn't believe Leslie was suddenly being honest with him. Her life story was pouring out as swiftly as the waters of the creek before them and as she spoke, Jess could almost see the images of her life in the swirling water. She continued telling him of her previous life, without any further encouragement. As she recounted her childhood, he listened intently, trying to catch the hint of any lie she might be feeding him. He couldn't unravel the tale she was weaving, but Jess detected the distinct thread of something left unsaid. He couldn't imagine what she wasn't telling him, but he didn't dare interrupt. She was being honest with him, for the most part, and that was all he could ask. After a time, though, he had to question something. "What of your parents?"

"My parents weren't… around." She shook her head, and then added, "The people at the castle took good care of me, though. But I was alone." She gave him a meaningful look. "You're the only friend I've ever had."

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She smiled back and looked to the waters, as if seeing images of her own past. "I served a noble family for most of my life. I ran away because I wanted to see the world." She brightened with a smile. "Then I came here and found you." She hooked some hair behind an ear and shrugged. "That's all there is to my life."

That wasn't all there was, Jess knew. She was holding something back, something important. He didn't want to press her but there was something about her story that didn't make sense. He looked down at the stick he was holding.

"Why would the soldiers teach a servant girl to fight?"

The question was something he asked himself, but Leslie didn't hesitate to answer.

"They didn't teach me, exactly. I watched them and studied their movements. I learned a lot from them without them even knowing."

Jess smiled at her answer. It had a ring of truth. Jess imagined Leslie misbehaving. It wasn't hard. He wondered if she had been caught and how many times she had gotten her bottom switched for trying to learn how to fight. He smirked at the thought of Leslie having to pay a price for her victories against him; that seemed to make his losses to her seem less painful. Her voice brought him out of his private thoughts.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh," he stammered, "N-nothing."

He could feel his face heating as she folded her arms and glared at him. "Jess," she admonished, in a rising tone of voice.

She sounded like his mother. He rolled his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep secret his thoughts if she pressed him, so he hopped off the log and asked her to show him how she fought.

"C'mon," he begged. "Show me everything the brave soldiers taught you."

Her smile returned. She nodded. He backed away to give her room and as Leslie leapt off the log in answer to his challenge, Jess silently hoped she wouldn't teach him how they had switched her bottom for pestering them.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Okay, you're probably wondering about the stuff at the top. That was my little way of saying "thank you" to some of my reviewers. I would also like to thank everyone else who gave me a great review, so... thanks everybody! I will hopefully have more to say next week (January 15th, 2010, if my math is right) when I post the third chapter of _The New Life, _so for now please accept my generic praise and humble gratitude for choosing to continue this magical journey with me and know that I am honored by your patronage.


	3. Chapter 3

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 3**

"Again!"

Jess swung the willow switch with control and focus, just as she had taught him. He thought he had gotten it right this time… until the sound of Leslie's clicking tongue told him he hadn't. Jess lowered his sword and heaved a heavy sigh as he glared at her.

"What did I do wrong this time?"

She regarded him calmly, appraising his posture. "Look at your feet."

Jess glanced down sourly and saw that his feet were placed exactly where they should be. He frowned at her and asked what she meant. She rolled her eyes and stepped up next to him. "Like this," she instructed, stepping into position. "Look at my feet. Look closely. See how they're different from yours?"

Jess was about to tell her that the only difference between them that _he_ could discern was that hers were smellier, when he suddenly saw what she meant: He had his feet in the wrong place. His left foot was where his right ought to have been. He quickly shuffled them into position. Leslie clapped his shoulder and congratulated him on getting it right after only three tries. Jess was about to become very flippant when she confided that it had taken her a week to learn the same lesson.

As she stepped back, Jess took to the lesson with renewed vigor. He was determined to be a good student. Leslie had taught him for most of the afternoon and he realized that he was becoming more than a little tired. In spite of his fatigue, he refused to quit. Leslie had more than once offered him the chance to do something else or even go home for the day, but he didn't want to stop; he finally felt as if he were becoming a real warrior.

At Leslie's terse command, he stepped again, this time keeping his footing proper as he swung the sword. The tip whistled through the air. Leslie gave her approval with a single nod. Jess was glad to finally be getting it right. He repeated the step as many times as he could and was pleased to find that Leslie didn't need to correct him anymore.

The sun was getting low in the sky when the lesson ended. Jess knew they had to head home soon or there would be a belt waiting for both of them. He was just about to toss the sword away when Leslie's hand caught his arm. She gently took the sword from him and slipped it behind her belt. Jess grinned at the sight; Leslie always looked better with a sword.

As they raced home to the sight of the setting sun, Jess wondered what they would be having for supper. The cool evening air swept his brown hair back from his sweaty face as thoughts of the approaching evening filled his mind but what occupied his thoughts most were where Leslie would sleep. She would be staying with them of course but the lower floor seemed too crowded for her and his pallet wouldn't hold more than one.

He suspected she might get his room, while he was put out like a dog.

When they strolled into the yard, both laughing from an outrageous joke Leslie had whispered to him, May Belle rushed out and plodded along behind them. She fell in laughing with them, not knowing what they were laughing about or perhaps not caring.

Aromas from supper greeted them as they slipped through the front flap. The table was being set and Jess, Leslie and May Belle plopped down on the bench, ready to eat. Mother was stirring the pot of what Jess thought were beans. He didn't much care for beans, but as hungry as he was, he didn't really mind. He would have eaten anything.

The plates were set and Jess was delighted to find other foods being served: chicken, vegetables, rice, potatoes and, of course, beans. He took plenty of all and helped to serve everyone else. Leslie looked as famished as he from their long day of training and as they sat watching their steaming plates cool, they began talking quietly of everything they had done.

Soon everyone was engaged in hushed conversation, Ellie with Brenda, May Belle with mother Leslie and Jess sharing their plans for the next day. The only person missing was Father. Jess wasn't surprised by this as Father often stayed overnight in town where he worked. People often paid him with a bit of food and shelter when he rested at the inns and worked on the homes and businesses by helping to unload and cart things.

With summer over, he hoped Father would be home more often. Jess felt a sense of apprehension mixed with longing when he thought of father. His father staying home meant a chance for Jess to impress him but it also meant more chances at failing to impress.

As he watched the steam rise from his chicken, he tapped it with his fingers. Deciding it was reasonably cooled he plucked it up and dug in. He was fortunate to get the biggest piece; with father out he was the "man of the house." The biggest piece of chicken was one of the few benefits of so much extra work. Jess smiled. At that moment, the extra labor seemed well worth it. The meat was tender and warm and as he tore off chunks with his teeth, he glanced at Leslie. She had followed his lead and started in on hers. As they chewed, they both nodded to each other in satisfaction.

The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. Jess and Leslie took turns telling stories around the snap of the evening fire. Leslie's stories were a match for anyone's and were the most often cheered. May Belle sat curled in mother's lap, sucking her thumb as she listened in rapt attention to Leslie's tales of monsters and maidens, of daring escapes from dark dungeons and wild adventures in faraway forests. Jess held his breath for the heroes who narrowly avoided being devoured by all manner of nasty things, from trolls, to ogres, to orcs and goblins and they always seemed to escape in the nick of time and find a home and family waiting for them only to be set upon again and to keep running.

Leslie seemed to make the stories come alive and as he watched her face in the grim glow of the fire, Jess could almost see the places she talked about and the things she said the heroes did. Leslie was the greatest story-teller he had ever known.

Everyone seemed to take a liking to her stories—even Brenda and Ellie glanced their way as they sat away from the fire, combing their long hair pretending not to listen.

As the moon rose high and the night owls began their discourse, Mother clapped her hands and ushered everyone to bed. Jess climbed the ladder sleepily, wishing he were already there. Leslie followed him up. Before he could think better of it, Jess had unbuckled his belt and slipped down his trousers. Leslie's giggling made him come awake and pull them back up in a hurry. Blushing, he tersely asked what she had seen. She told him that she had seen nothing and sounded as if she meant it. Jess figured his shirt had covered him. Coupled with the dark, he guessed she might not have seen anything. But by the way she covered her giggling with her hand, and they way her rounded cheeks bloomed red, Jess reasoned that Leslie might have had a little peek at his bottom. He didn't really blame her for it; he was the one who had messed up.

As he sat on his pallet, he stared at her.

She frowned, folding her arms. "I'm not taking my clothes off, Jess."

He smirked and told her that he couldn't stand it if she did. They both laughed. Leslie dropped down next to him and jostled his shoulder. He was about to ask where she was going to sleep, when Mother interrupted, coming up the ladder with a blanket bundled under her arms. She handed Leslie her traveling sack and Jess helped her arrange a pile of straw and drape a blanket over it. The pallet they had created for Leslie wasn't any more comfortable than his but it was the best they could provide—and it was more comfortable than the bare wood of the loft floor. Leslie thanked her and lay down on top of the blanket as mother wished them both a good sleep and left. She curled up and bunched some straw and stuffed it into the sack propped under her head. Jess smiled at her creativity. Leslie looked perfectly at home on the floor. She wished him pleasant dreams and rolled over to fall asleep. He never really thought much about his drafty room, but Jess figured she was grateful for a roof and a full stomach.

As he lay down his last thoughts were of his new friend and if she would be warm enough.

* * * * *

The next morning was bright and cool. Jess lay awake in his bed as a soft breeze blew in through the window. He knew the day wouldn't stay pleasant for long. Soon the baking sun would beat down, driving the morning mist from the air. Jess rolled over onto his side and thought about all that had happened the day before. He thought about Leslie, and all that she had taught him. He smiled to himself. It must have been a dream. Certainly no person as wondrous as Leslie could possibly exist. It all must have been a dream—a wonderful, fancy dream.

The smell of cooking meat floated up to him, stirring him from his drowsiness. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. As he glanced about, he noticed the sunlight was filtering in through the window. He jumped up and quickly changed. It was fortunate that Father wasn't home; he would have tanned his hide for sleeping so late.

With rising frustration, Jess realized how late it was; he figured the sun had been up for more than an hour already.

Running to the ladder, he slipped downstairs to the sight of his mother and sisters preparing breakfast. Leslie was there too. Jess smiled at seeing her, squatting beside the fire, in her simple clothes and vest, her hair still ruffled from the previous night's sleep. Her fair face was sparkling clean. Jess realized she must have bathed while he slept. It occurred to him that he needed a bath himself.

Deciding to put off bathing until after breakfast, he ambled over to the table and sat down. As Leslie watched him from the hearth, she smiled. It was a small smirk that she often showed him when they were alone. He smiled at her smirk. It made him feel special.

As Leslie squatted in front of the fire, Jess yawned. He leaned forward, surprised to see Leslie stirring something in the skillet. She added a handful of some-things and stirred it some more. May Belle was watching as Leslie added the ingredients, talking as she did. Jess guessed it must have been reasons for adding them.

Leslie making breakfast seemed unusual to him. He silently wondered if she really could cook. The aromas floating to him from the fire told him he was in for a treat. He drummed his fingers against the table as he waited, listening to the sizzling sounds of the skillet. The smoke hung in a dense haze around the room as it always did, but now he could see through it to his new friend. When she smirked at him, he knew she was planning something. He wanted to taste whatever it was she was making and he wanted even more to talk to her about everything they had discussed the day before.

Jess watched her as she spoke to May Belle over the fire. May Belle said something about something being "really good." Jess hoped it was the food. Leslie hooked some hair behind her ear and glanced in his direction. He smiled as she winked at him. Jess liked seeing her in the morning; it seemed to make the day more promising.

As he thought about everything there was to talk about, his mother stood near the fire, directing the others to set the table. May Belle placed the plates and cups around the table. Mother leaned close and whispered to him to go wash up before breakfast. He nodded and stumbled over one of May Belle's ratty old dolls.

He considered kicking the doll across the room, but he didn't want to upset her and end up in trouble. Grumbling, he poured some fresh water into the basin and splashed some on his face, trembling slightly at the chill. He wished he didn't have to bathe in cold water. Nothing could be done about it, he knew; he just had to live with what he had. He tried to get as clean as possible, not wanting to stink around Leslie and as he grabbed the towel and dried himself off, he pulled on a fresh shirt and resumed his place at the table. Leslie set the skillet down and served everyone. Jess helped her and as she thanked him and filled his plate with an assortment of foods, she whispered that she made it special for him. There were eggs, of course, but Jess found that there other things mixed in: sausage, beans, onions, and lumps of gooey cheese. Jess tried not to drool as he set down his plate, wanting nothing more than to start in on his meal, but he managed to restrain himself long enough to serve cider to everyone before resuming his seat.

Jess imagined he must feel like wolves did when looking at lambs.

As the steam rose from the plate, he looked over at his friend. She was unusually quiet. Jess figured she must be hungry and didn't question her. He watched her take a sip of cider before regarding him with a delightful smile.

"Jess," she whispered, "You know that place we were at yesterday?"

He nodded. "The creek."

Leslie held her cup in front of her mouth as she spoke. "I want to go back today." She watched everyone else talking quietly as she took a sip of cider. Her delicate eyebrows arched in question. "Are you interested?"

He nodded discretely. He remembered the place well and had wanted to ask her about returning.

"Well, I was wondering if you also wanted to go _across_ the creek."

Jess stared at her openly. "Across the…?" He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Leslie, are you crazy? We can't cross something like that—it's too dangerous!"

She gave him an even look. "I understand if you're scared, Jess, but I'm going to cross it after our chores are done. If you want to come, then you're welcome to follow me."

Jess watched her sip some cider. The conversation was finished, but he still couldn't believe she was serious. He didn't know how they could possibly cross such a torrent without falling in. He didn't think they could leap across, but he had never seen Leslie jump. He thought maybe she could do it, if she tried.

"I don't know if we should," he pleaded. "It might not be the best idea to try."

She picked at her food awhile before answering. "Or it might turn out to be the best thing we ever did."

Jess thought it over a while. He still wasn't sure it wasn't a good idea, but he had to admit Leslie did seem to have the best ideas. It might be fun, he decided. But he still didn't know how they would cross over to the other side. As he pondered her solution, he started in on his food. It was a tasteful mixture of some wonderful treats, much better than the plain scrambled eggs he always ate before. Mother seemed to approve. Everyone was eating heartily; although Brenda was loathe admitting that she was wrong about Leslie. May Belle kept teasing her about the things she had said before Jess awakened; that Leslie would probably put them all in the ground with her cooking. Jess laughed at that and at the fact that his sister was wrong about his friend. He was just starting on his second bite when something occurred to him.

He didn't know where Leslie had learned to cook.

As they finished their meal, Jess turned to her and asked, "Leslie, where did you ever learn to cook like that?"

"Oh, you know," she shrugged, "around."

Jess frowned at her oblique answer. He was accustomed to it but after sharing some of her life story yesterday, he'd been hoping she would have been more forthcoming.

"C'mon, Leslie, were friends. You're not supposed to keep secrets from friends."

She gave him a frightening look. It wasn't a look of anger; more a look of wonder.

"Do you really mean that, Jess? Are we really friends?"

The question seemed to be important to her, more important than anything she had ever asked. Jess wondered why it would matter. He shrugged. "Sure." He busied himself with drinking some cider as she sat staring at him. "What's wrong," he asked. He thought to soften the moment with a joke. "Haven't you ever had a friend before?"

She shook her head. "Not even one."

Jess began to laugh, but the serious look on her face told him it was no joke.

Everyone at the table suddenly stopped eating. They all stared at her. Leslie fidgeted under his family's close scrutiny. She seemed like some new creature to examine. Jess felt as if he had discovered something new, something unexpected but he didn't enjoy putting Leslie on the spot. In spite of this, he couldn't stop staring. Mother stood and began clearing the table of their empty plates, more to break up the tension, Jess thought, than because it needed to be cleared. Ellie and Brenda whispered to each other and May Belle scooped up the last of her eggs, shoveling them in as her plate was taken away.

Jess just continued to stare at Leslie.

"How could you not have any friends?"

"You don't have any either," Brenda broke in with her usual rancor.

Jess glared at her before returning his attention to Leslie. He couldn't fathom anyone being alone their whole life—other than himself. Leslie didn't explain any of what she had told him, just quietly stood and gathered the empty cups. She smiled down at him and shrugged before moving away. Jess stood to help her but she told him not to bother. As he sank back down, he sighed. He had offended her, he was sure. Jess didn't mean to hurt her feelings; he just didn't understand. He wanted to understand though. Jess didn't know why, but Leslie seemed very important to him—more important than almost anyone. He guessed he really hadn't had any real friends and that she was the first to genuinely acknowledge him as more than a nuisance. She was an honest companion who valued his company. She listened to him. She always had a smile when he informed her of his view of things and she always seemed interested in hearing what he thought. Jess had never had anyone ask what he wanted or thought or felt; they always just expected him to do what they thought or wanted and to know how they felt. Leslie was different. She was someone special. He knew he had to figure her out or he would miss out on something. He couldn't imagine what it was but he was sure it was something hidden, something special, secret and unique.

After their morning chores were finished, Leslie led Jess out back, proclaiming she had something special to show him. Jess had obliged her, but didn't really know what to expect.

"This is it," she whispered. She pointed to a coiled rope. "This is how we'll get across to the other side of the creek."

Jess was confused. He didn't understand how a simple rope could possibly get them across. "Leslie, I don't see what good that will do. It's just an old rope."

"You're wrong, Jess." She had a mischievous look in her almond-shaped eyes as she reverently lifted the heavy coil. "It's an enchanted rope."

Jess sighed. It was a game. She was playing games. He didn't know what she wanted to play, but he didn't think it would be much fun. He would almost rather be working.

If she sensed his disappointment, she didn't show it, simply smiling at him as she walked past, the heavy coiled rope slung on her shoulder. By the bounce in her step, she seemed in a playful mood. Jess wanted to ask where she was going, but realized he already knew: she was going to the creek.

As they made their way across the fields, Jess stole a last look at the farm. The sun lit the wide pastures where children laughed and played and while the fields looked ready for the harvest, he wasn't sure he was. Jess smiled at seeing the golden fields waving in the wind, as if bidding him goodbye and as he turned his attention back to the journey, he wondered if he would be coming home. As they made their way across the fields, Leslie had a smile and a wave for the people they passed. Some acknowledged her,. Others didn't. Jess thought it odd for her to be so happy to see people she didn't know but he didn't tell her to stop. He contented himself with trudging behind her as they traveled back to their place in the woods. The return journey was longer because they weren't running to the creek; Leslie told him the rope was too heavy and that she wanted to save all her energy for the crossing. Jess still didn't understand how she intended to cross with just a length of rope. He guessed he'd find out soon.

As they entered the woods, the shade provided some much needed relief from the sun. As Jess stopped to rest, Leslie went on ahead. Jess looked around for a willow switch to play with, but, finding none, settled for falling back in behind Leslie as she made her way to the creek.

They stopped when they saw it.

The water seemed higher than he remembered. They both shared a look. The way Leslie bit her lower lip told him she felt as anxious about this as he did. The torrent was definitely faster than last time. Jess swallowed and stepped back a little but Leslie was undaunted; she started toward a nearby tree.

Jess didn't follow. "What are you doing?"

She looked back at him as if he were daft. "I'm getting across the creek." As she returned her attention to the tree Leslie dug her feet into the side of the trunk and lurched upwards, grabbing a crook and heisting herself higher. As she climbed, Jess held his breath, watching her go from handhold to foothold. His gaze followed her as she reached the largest branch and crawled out onto the limb where it extended over the rushing water. She draped the rope over it and tied a loose end to the thick branch.

"Jess," she called out, "Grab the other end."

He reached out timidly over the water only to find that he couldn't grab hold of it. He let his arm drop back. He looked up at her in feigned regret. "Sorry," he called as the rope swung away from him. "I can't get it."

She swung it back towards him again, urging him to snag it. He gave a half-hearted attempt and told her again that he couldn't reach it. She sighed and climbed back down grumbling that he wasn't even trying. He knew she was right, but he still felt like pushing her in the creek. Leslie told him he should climb the tree and she would grab the rope. He shook his head. She sighed, scratching her blonde head. Jess folded his arms and looked away. He didn't want to meet her gaze. She couldn't get across the creek alone and he wasn't going to help her anymore.

"Maybe we should just go home," he offered.

Leslie's eyes came back to him. She opened her mouth to argue, when a clap of thunder interrupted, startling them both. They cringed and casting a wary glance to the darkening sky, Leslie meekly nodded her consent. "Alright… let's go home."

Defeated, and with the rain already falling, they raced off towards the longhouse.

"Well," Jess shouted above the sound of the rain, "I guess we'll never get across now."

Undaunted, Leslie frowned at him. "I swear to you, Jess, one day we'll come back and conquer the creek. One day we'll find all the secrets it hides on the other side."

He didn't doubt her for a minute.


	4. Chapter 4

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 4**

They raced home as fast as they could. As Leslie pulled out ahead, he watched her run. She was like a bird in flight. Her high black boots impacted the puddles with precision, sending up splashes of wet mud along her pant legs. Nothing could slow her and as Jess looked ahead, he caught sight of the longhouse, it's inviting gray walls standing proud and welcoming in the mist.

Leslie flew into the house with all speed, just as thunder crashed overhead. Jess ducked his head and followed her. They stopped short as everyone turned to look at them. They stared a moment before Jess realized why they were looking: He and Leslie were both soaked. Leslie looked like a drowned cat, her blond hair dark and matted against her fair face. Jess didn't think he looked much better.

As they rushed over to the fire to get warm, he watched her shivering. She clutched her arms around herself and managed a smile as water dripped off her quivering chin.

"I won," she whispered, trying her best to smile through chattering teeth.

Jess thought he would never be warm again, but mother came over and helped him out of his shirt. Leslie turned away and slipped her vest off. He knew they had to undress but he didn't think she would want to be naked in front of everyone. Jess suddenly realized that he felt the same. Nevertheless, Mother sat him down on a bench, handing him a towel while May Belle fetched a dry shirt. Leslie kept herself away from him as Ellie and Brenda helped her undress near the fire. By the time Jess worked up the courage raise his blushing face to look, she was wrapped tight in a towel, her bare shoulders sticking up and looking paler in the darkness than the moon on a clear night.

She hooked some wet hair behind an ear and grinned sheepishly. He tried not to laugh.

Mother motioned him off his seat and he knew she meant for him to ditch his wet pants. He peered past her at Leslie. Her eyebrows rose in expectation. Jess glowered, so she rolled her eyes and turned away, clutching her towel as she huddled close to the fire.

Jess waited till he was sure she wouldn't look before peeling off his wet trousers. He dried off quickly, keeping his eyes on the back of Leslie's damp head. Soon they both had on a dry pair of pants and a shirt and in no time were sitting by the fire, wrapped in warm wool blankets, shivering and trying to decide whether they would ever go outside again.

Supper was served long before it stopped raining. Leslie seemed disappointed at this; she would have to wait until tomorrow to conquer the creek. Jess warned her that it wasn't something to be done as a lark. Leslie laughed and decided that was what they should call it: Lark Creek. Jess wasn't sure about making fun of something that could be dangerous, but Leslie scoffed, saying he was silly for being afraid of a little water. Jess figured she was right and soon "Lark Creek" became the official new name for it. Jess found that a silly name did make it seem less intimidating. He felt as if it might be conquered after all.

But he was still grateful when they awoke the next day to find it raining.

Leslie sighed. "I guess we'll just have to wait."

Jess let the cover slip back over the doorway to the sound of a clap of thunder. Leslie laughed, saying he made the door slam shut. Jess humored her with a small smile.

The rainy day was filled with indoor chores and quiet games. Leslie told stories while mending clothes and cooking meals and she helped calm the animals when the lightning flashed. Jess was impressed with her domestic skills; for someone who didn't act much like a girl she was very good at performing women's chores. Mother was glad of the extra help and May Belle was glad of the stories. Brenda and Ellie just sulked because they couldn't run off to town and leave everyone else with all the work.

By the start of the third day, the sky finally shined a bright blue. Leslie stepped out onto the soggy ground and breathed a deep sigh. Her high black boots squished in the thick muck but she still smiled as she extended her arms to the shining sky and shouted, "We're free at last!"

An answering gust of wind tousled her blonde hair as Jess followed her out, stepping carefully and keeping a watchful eye to the heavens. He was certain another downpour was on its way. But when nothing came from above other than sunshine and birdsong, Jess could only smile.

Then he remembered their quest.

He hoped Leslie had forgotten it with all the tedium—she hadn't mentioned it much I the past few days—but as soon as he finished the thought, she turned back to him with a mischievous smirk. "Ready to conquer the creek?"

Jess stifled a groan. He didn't want Leslie to think him a coward but he didn't think he could get out of going. He scratched his head and mumbled something unintelligible, trying desperately to think of a way out, when mother's voice saved him.

"Jess," she called, "You and Leslie get your chores done before you go running off."

Turning to her, Jess hid his smile. "Aw, mother," he pretended to gripe, "We were gonna go…"

Mother was already shaking her head. "Not till your chores are done." She disappeared back into the house without another word.

Jess put on his best disappointed face as he turned back to face Leslie's frown. Staring at the ground, he shrugged. "I guess we can't go today."

Leslie nodded her acceptance and walked back to the house. She stopped then and turned to him. "I bet we can go if we can get our chores done before the day is out."

Jess wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be possible but she smiled and ran off to work before he could stop her. He decided she was just plain crazy to think like that, but he heaved a sigh and followed, certain there was no way they would get to go to the creek.

They were standing before Lark Creek by mid-afternoon. Jess couldn't believe they had gotten everything done so quickly; he had even asked mother for more work when Leslie was in the privy but she said he should go out and play. Jess was surprised when mother dismissed him, but as he left, he heard his sisters complain that they still had work, while he was allowed to go out and play with Leslie.

Mother responded by giving her usual "You're-not-little-children-anymore" lecture and Jess felt his face go beet red as he heard her add, "Just be glad he's found a friend."

Now they were standing at the creek. Jess stared into the rushing waters. They seemed to be flowing even faster than before. The rain had added to its flow and what was once a calm rushing of water was now a dreadful torrent. He felt mesmerized by the sight of the creek, its power and force seeming to challenge him to try and cross.

The rope they had tied to the tree days before was still there, waiting out of reach in the center of the creek. They stared at it, Jess wondering how Leslie intended to reach it. He glanced back to the water and they both stood staring at it as it were some unsolvable riddle.

At last Leslie broke the silence. Her blue-greenish gaze remained locked on the water as she whispered to him, her voice as unsure as he had ever heard it. "Look how high it got!"

Jess was about to suggest they leave but Leslie was already moving away from the edge, giving him a reason to relax. His relief turned to confusion when he saw her pluck up a long branch and his confusion turned to fear as he watched her stretch it out over the water. She snagged the rope and pulled it back to her.

Then she smiled.

Jess grimaced.

The rope was in her hand.

He sighed and looked across the creek. The bushes on the other side obscured his view but he was sure there was nothing good on the other side. He was about to tell Leslie not to waste her time, when she surprised him by climbing atop the log.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting up higher," she answered.

She stood atop the log a moment, gripping the rope as high as she could. She smiled at him.

Then she jumped off.

Jess watched helplessly as she swung out towards the other side of the creek and when she reached the distant bushes, she let go, disappearing into the brush.

"Leslie!"

He grabbed the rope as it swung back to him and scrambled atop the log. He braced himself as she did and jumped after her. The swing was thrilling but all he could think of was getting to Leslie. He saw the bushes come close as he flew across the creek, felt his feet skim over the surface of the water and when he reached the other side, he released the rope and flew into the brush. He half-expected to land in water or worse, mud, but to his great relief, his feet found solid ground. Jess couldn't see much as he tried to find a way out. He trudged ahead, the leaves slapping at his face as he pushed his way through but he soon came free on the other side and began to ascend a rise.

There was no sign of Leslie.

"Leslie!" he whispered as loud as he dared. There was no answer.

Jess moved silently through the dark woods, the fluttering sounds and scampering of who-knew-what sending shudders through him with every step. "Where are you?"

Leslie popped out from behind a tree some distance ahead, beckoning him onward. He rushed to catch up and as he rounded the tree where he had spotted her, she jumped out, growling like a monster. He jumped with a start. She giggled and looked around.

Jess looked about too, knowing that something was wrong. "We shouldn't be here," he whispered. "This isn't our land."

Leslie ignored him and walked on through the shadowy forest, looking up at the distant treetops as they swayed, whispering in the wind. Jess followed her silently, hoping she would change her mind and they could go home. Maybe if she saw enough, she would get bored and they could start back. Jess was just beginning to grow comfortable with this feeble notion, when they saw something that destroyed his ridiculous hopes altogether.

Ahead of them, in the center of a sunlit clearing stood an old cottage. Smoke rose from the chimney and the acrid scent of woodsmoke hung low in the air. Jess thought he could see the shadow of someone moving through the window. He had just turned to tell Leslie they should leave now, when she walked up to the door.

He whispered her name in urgent warning. She didn't seem to hear him and, before he had a chance to try again, she knocked on the door. Jess wanted to run, wanted to hide, but he wouldn't leave Leslie to face the danger alone.

As the door creaked slowly open, seemingly of its own accord, he watched her slip inside and against his better judgment, followed.

The cottage was cozy and warm. A fire crackled in the fireplace, lending a soft glow to the rest of the room. It was strangely quiet. Jess noticed a pot of stew hanging in the hearth, sending delightful aromas to distract him as he looked about. Leslie was off to the side, examining a bookshelf holding books and small statues and other odd little things. Jess took a few steps away from the door, trying not to make a sound. He was certain his hammering heart would give him away as he stepped carefully onto a soft woven rug. As his gaze drifted about the empty room, his sight passed over the empty chairs by the hearth and the polished table in the corner. His gaze lingered briefly on the stairs leading to a dark, open space on the second floor. A cat purred contentedly on a chair by the fire. There was no sign of whoever had been in the cottage.

Jess let out a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the place but a growing sense of apprehension lifted the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He glanced over to Leslie and took a deep breath. He slipped up behind her. She seemed to be lost in her examination of the books.

He tapped her shoulder and she jumped with a start.

As she spun to him, her hand to her chest, she scowled.

"What are you trying to do?" she whispered. "Startle me to death?"

He gave her a look that told her that he wasn't sorry. "We have to get out of here," he whispered back, "Right now."

She was just about to argue, when her eyes caught sight of something on the other side of the room. Jess glanced over his shoulder to the table. There was a single plate beside a loaf of bread and a large wedge of cheese next to three bowls set in different places on the tabletop. He briefly wondered who they were for.

As he turned back to Leslie, intent on having her follow him out, the sound of footsteps caught his attention.

The slamming door made him stiffen.

He slowly turned to see who had just locked them in the cottage. The room was empty. Jess gussed the wind had closed the door and that he had just imagined the footsteps. As he sighed in relief, Leslie pointed a shaking hand past him. He looked back again and saw an old woman standing between him and the door. He didn't know how he could have missed her.

"Well, well," the woman wheezed, "Looks like I have guests."

Jess turned to face the woman. "Leslie," he whispered, "Get behind me."

He wasn't sure if she had. He stood tall and looked the woman in her old grey eyes. He told her that they were sorry and that they were just leaving. As they moved towards the door, the old woman laughed a deep, scary cackle.

"So soon?" She gestured to the table. "Wouldn't you care for something to eat before you go?"

He stole a questioning glance back at Leslie who gave a discrete but firm shake of her head. Leslie wanted to leave and wasn't about to hear any arguments. Jess wasn't about to give any and in spite of the fact that they were both hungry, neither wanted to dine in the company of a stranger. Jess was about to decline the old woman's offer when Leslie stepped forward, standing tall and proud. She looked up at the woman's wrinkled face.

"We don't want anything from an old witch like you."

Jess started. He hadn't even considered that the woman might be a witch. The old woman gave a gruesome grin that made Leslie back up a few paces. Jess stepped up next to her as she came near. He wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and head for the hills, but his legs weren't listening to what his mind was screaming.

They both backed away as the woman neared. "A witch?" she wheezed. "You think I'm a witch?"

Then she laughed a horrible witchy laugh. Jess wondered if she was laughing at the two stupid children who had wondered in from the woods. He also wondered what she was going to do to them, now that she had them. Jess glanced around the room, looking for an escape.

The old woman shambled over to the cook pot and, lifting the lid, she took a long, deep breath. The aroma was alluring, even if it was made by a witch. Jess wondered if it might be safe to sample a little stew.

The old woman chuckled as she tasted her work. "Just about right." She looked over her shoulder at the two of them. The firelight made the shadows of her face frightening to behold as she smiled that evil, witchy smile. "Been a long time since I added some children to my pot."

Jess heart raced. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to end up as the old hag's midday meal. He decided they had to make for the door. It was their only chance. Jess knew they shouldn't have come. He had warned Leslie about these woods. If they ended up in a witch's cook pot, it was her fault. As he gestured silently to her, she nodded that she understood. They both began creeping towards the door. The witch appeared in front of them so suddenly they both gasped in fright. She grinned, revealing crooked teeth.

"I suppose I could use a slave for my home—a house servant to perform errands." She pointed her wooden spoon at Jess. "Well, what's it to be, little boy? Slave or stew?"

Jess hated the thought of being a slave, but the thought of being a stew sounded much worse. He decided if he was a slave, he would still be alive and there would always be a chance of escape. The spoon had not moved from his chest, or her hard eyes from his face. As the witch's grey eyes bore into him, he swallowed and answered her in as strong a voice as he could muster.

"S-slave."

She showed her most wicked grin as she gestured to Leslie. "Then I'll just have to cook your little friend here." She snatched Leslie's wrist in a gnarled hand and pinched her arm. "Kind of scrawny, but I guess she'll do for a snack."

Jess panicked. He hadn't meant for this to happen; he hadn't thought about Leslie being the witch's meal. The witch licked her lips as she looked her over. "Come on, sweetie, time to get in the pot."

As she began dragging her across the room, Leslie cried out. Jess called out to the witch and she stopped, looking back at him a frown deepening the lines on her face. Jess stood firm. He had to save Leslie but he could think of only one way.

"Take me in her place," he said. "I'll be your snack, just let her go."

"Jess, no!" Leslie shouted. She pulled desperately against the witch's grip. "Get out of here! Run home, Jess, run home!"

Jess stood firm. He wasn't going to let Leslie become a witchy snack. "Me or her," he said, his voice holding steady. "You can't have us both."

The witch seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she released her grip. Leslie staggered back with a cry of surprise. As she fell back, her arms flailing wildly, she landed hard on her bottom. The witch laughed. Jess trembled knowing his fate was sealed; the bargain had been struck. At least Leslie was safe. He stood fast as she scrambled to his side, grabbing his arm and tugging, trying to get him to run with her.

"We're both the fastest runners," she whispered. "We can escape together." He knew it was true, but Leslie was faster. Jess knew she could escape while he would be caught. "Go, Leslie. If you don't run she'll have us both." He looked into her wide eyes and shrugged. "I couldn't keep up with you anyway."

The look on Leslie's face frightened him, not because of anger—she didn't seem to have any left—but because she looked afraid. He also thought she seemed a bit sad by the way she pouted. "I don't want to go alone…"

It was over. He couldn't escape; he was going to die.

As the witch came forward to claim her prize, Leslie stepped between them. Jess pulled her back, but she came forward again. "You stay away from us!"

He wanted her to run. He wanted to get Leslie away from the cottage. He wanted to go home. Only then did he realize that he was never again going to see the farm or his family. He felt great sorrow at the thought of never returning. His parents would never even know what had happened to him. Suddenly, the witch halted in front of them, looking down at Leslie. Then she did something unexpected: She patted Leslie's shoulder. Jess didn't understand why she wasn't cooking them both.

The witch's calm voice brought him out of his private thoughts.

"I'm not an evil witch, child. I was only teasing you."

Jess wasn't sure he had heard her. He wasn't sure he believed her. He just wanted to go home. Leslie came forward and asked his question. "Then why did you tell us you were?"

The woman laughed a little and shambled back to the cook pot. As she lifted the lid, she smiled over her shoulder. "I never said that I was witch; I just let you assume I was." She inhaled the delightful aroma as she stirred in a few things. "Just for laughs," she added. She sampled the soup before turning back to them. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

Jess stomach grumbled. He was hungry and the aroma wasn't helping. As the tempting scents filled his lungs he found himself moaning that he would. Leslie elbowed him in the gut. She scowled over her shoulder. "We have to get home," she said without taking her eyes off Jess. "We don't want to be late."

"Oh, what a shame," the old woman said. "I have so much soup and no one to share it with. I miss having people to talk to, and you two seemed so nice…"

"Well," Jess said, "Maybe we could stay for a little while."

Leslie was about to object, when Jess stepped forward and promised they would stay for one meal. Leslie opened her mouth to say something, but Jess and the old woman both stared at her hopefully. Sighing, she agreed to stay. The old woman smiled and asked them to bring the bowls over to her so she could fill them. He stacked up the bowls and handed her the first. The old woman ladled soup into a bowl and handed it back. Jess handed the steaming bowl to Leslie and offered the second empty bowl to the old woman. As she filled it, he asked her name.

"I'm Mistress Vanderholt," she said without pausing.

"I'm Jess," he told her. He gestured behind himself. "And this is Leslie."

"Charmed," Leslie said in a flat tone.

Mrs. Vanderholt flashed her an empty smile. "Nice to meet you too, Leslie."

She handed Jess the second bowl which he then passed to Leslie. She set it on the table and gave him a look that told him she didn't feel comfortable being in the cottage. In spite of the warmth of the fire and the fragrant aromas of both the cooking stew and the herbs hung in decoration, Jess too felt a sense that something wasn't quite right. He knew he was safe and that there was nothing to fear in a place such as this, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was somehow wrong.

As he sat down next to Leslie, she whispered to him one last time to follow her out the door. He insisted that they stay and have lunch, that it would be rude not to remain after having given his word. She heaved an impatient sigh and slowly stirred her soup as the old woman took her seat across from them.

She smiled as she took up a large knife. "Who wants cheese?"

They both raised their hands, Jess more readily then Leslie. He wondered why she had hesitated; Leslie loved cheese. Deciding that there would be more for him, Jess gratefully accepted her slice when she declined, putting it atop of his own. The bread was offered next, and again Jess accepted Leslie's piece for her. He looked at her bowl of stew and wondered if she would be giving that up too. She made a face that said she wasn't, so he started in on his own. He was famished and the delicious stew helped to warm the pang of hunger deep in his gut. The bread and cheese supplemented the meal and before long, he was holding out his bowl for another serving.

Leslie's elbow nudging him reminded him to mind his manners.

Mistress Vanderholt, still eating her own stew, looked over to Leslie. Leslie realized what she wanted and she snatched the bowl from him with a huff. As she crossed the room and refilled it, she shot him a warning look. He wondered if she meant for him not to eat too much so as not to offend Mistress Vanderholt, or to keep himself from being slowed if she decided they had to run. Leslie quietly finished filling his bowl and brought it back. Jess thanked her as he eyed the steaming stew, his mouth watering as he waited for it to cool. He looked around anxiously, wondering about the woman's home. The chairs, the rugs and the fireplace all seemed much more welcoming than his simple wattle and daub home. They smelled better too.

"How long have you lived out here?" Jess asked.

The old woman leaned back and sighed. "Oh, a very long time. I came out here as a girl,"—she pointed her spoon at Leslie—"Not much older than your friend. I used to play in these woods. When I grew old and weary of traveling the world, I retired to this place to live out the rest of my days in my childhood forest."

Jess grinned at the story. He had suspected others had played in the woods. It was nice to know that the old woman had once been a child and played like them, that she had come home to live where she was happiest. He liked the idea of staying in a place where you could be free to live as you chose. Jess wondered how old the woman was.

"So," Leslie said in a tone not completely without suspicion, "You traveled the world. I imagine you saw some pretty amazing things; things of magic. Am I right, Mistress Vanderholt?"

Jess glared at her with a mouthful of stew. He wondered where her manners had gone.

"Oh, yes," the woman replied. "Magical things." She leaned close and gave them a meaningful look. "Things you wouldn't believe."

Jess watched as Leslie stirred her untouched stew. "I bet you have a lot of stories about those days, about the things you learned—about magic."

The woman frowned. "Yes," she drawled, suspicion beginning to lace her voice. "What of them?"

"Well, I was just wondering where you learned how to control magic." Leslie gave the woman an even look. "You have the gift of sight, after all."

The woman's gaze could have cut steel. "What makes you think so, child?"

Leslie shrugged. "You had three bowls waiting for us." She gestured to the table. "You knew we were coming before we even arrived."

Jess swallowed the last of his soup without intending. He looked from the old woman, to Leslie and back. It was then that something occurred to him that he hadn't even thought to ask before. "Why did you set out three bowls, if you didn't expect us?"

As the old woman regarded the two of them, Jess suddenly realized why Leslie had wanted to leave.

The old woman really was a witch.

"Yes," she wheezed. "I do have the sight." She pointed her spoon at Leslie. "I can see if you don't eat soon, you'll wither away to nothing, my dear."

Jess laughed at that. It was true. Leslie was skinny. He was glad someone else noticed. But the way her face turned red made him feel bad. He was just about to say something to cheer her up, when Mrs. Vanderholt added in a quiet tone, "I also see your secret."

As Jess watched, Leslie's red face drained of color. She glanced at Jess a moment. Leslie said nothing but the look on her face frightened him. Her almond-shaped eyes had widened. She looked stricken. Her voice trembled as she returned her gaze to the old woman. "What do you mean?"

"I know the secret you're keeping from him," Mrs. Vanderholt whispered. She leaned forward, keeping her eyes on Leslie. "I know why you haven't told him and I know what you fear might happen if you do."

Leslie looked ready to cry. She searched around for some place to go. Jess decided he had to do something. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and met Mrs. Vanderholt's witchy gaze. "I don't care what you know about her or what Leslie hasn't told me." He worked hard to steady his voice. "She's my friend. Leave her alone."

Mrs. Vanderholt smiled. "Very brave, lad," she said, nodding. "Very brave indeed. I hope you're still as brave when the truth comes out."

She sat back then, seemingly satisfied and left him to wonder at what she meant.


	5. Chapter 5

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 5**

The door creaked open then and Jess and Leslie glance back to see a young woman fill the doorway. A little girl about May Belle's age peeked around her. As she entered the woman regarded them with a frown. Her gaze slid to Mistress Vanderholt. "Ma, what are you doing?"

The old woman smirked. "I was just having some children for lunch."

"Mother," she said, in a rising tone of admonition. "You shouldn't scare children like that; it's no wonder you don't get any visitors."

Mistress Vanderholt shrugged as they watched the woman enter. She set down a sack and pulled off her coat, letting her auburn hair hang down her back. Leslie and Jess stood as she approached. She took a moment to throw her curled hair back off her shoulders. She extended her hand in greeting. "I'm Valerie—Valerie Vanderholt." She draped an arm around the little girl, smoothing down her flow of bright red hair. "And this is my daughter, Alexandra." She eyed Mistress Vanderholt warily. "And I can see you've already met my troublesome mother…"

The elder Vanderholt shrugged. "No more trouble than you once were, young one." She tapped a wrinkled finger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling in thought. "I forget dear, how many times did your father whip you when you were little?"

As Alexandra giggled, Valerie's face went as red as her hair. "Ma," she growled.

Mistress Vanderholt chuckled as she stood. "Not enough times, I guess."

Alexandra laughed again. Leslie looked as if she was trying not to laugh. Valerie shook her red head and looked down at the two of them. "I'm sorry for anything she might have done while I wasn't here." She glared again at the old woman. "She can be quite a handful sometimes…"

Mother Vanderholt coughed and mumbled something about saying the same thing to their neighbors when she was young. Valerie rolled her eyes. Jess smiled. He knew the old woman was paying her daughter back for all the embarrassment she inflicted upon her years before. He tried to think about what his own mother would do when he grew up and felt a pang of sorrow for Leslie as he remembered that she was an orphan and would never get to be embarrassed by her mother.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took up the young woman's. He introduced Leslie first. "My friend, Leslie," he said.

She came forward and looked up into Valerie's amber eyes.

"Leslie, ma'am," she announced. "Leslie Wilkins."

She gave a short dip of her blond head and stepped back. Leslie seemed to take a liking to Valerie and even smiled at her with what seemed like genuine kindness.

Jess smiled too as Leslie introduced him. He bowed and hoped it looked okay; he didn't have much experience with meeting people and didn't know exactly what was expected. Valerie nodded and bade them sit as she took a seat beside them. Alexandra pulled a chair up close to her mother as the old woman returned to the table with the sack she had brought.

She peered inside and smiled. "You got it!"

Valerie frowned. "I told you I would."

"So you did, child," Mistress Vanderholt whispered absently as she dug through the sack. "So you did."

Valerie picked up a small piece of bread and a large piece of cheese and nibbled at them as the old woman nodded and drew out a small bottle. It was a simple thing; the firelight reflected off the smooth green surface as she placed it on the table. Jess and Leslie shared a look and shrugged. Alexandra reached for it then but Valerie slapped her little hand away. She leaned back in her chair and pouted. Jess tried not to laugh at the little scowl she wore; it could have been a match for May Belle's.

As Jess went back to eating, Leslie finally took a spoonful of stew. Jess found that his had cooled considerably and hoped Leslie was enjoying her own stew at last.

As he looked over at her, she picked up a piece of bread and dipped it in the stew. Jess thought it a good idea and did the same while Valerie sipped ginger tea and quietly watched her mother as she pulled out the other contents of the sack. There were many things he didn't recognize: odd statues, trinkets and a few books that she placed on the table. They al looked interesting, but Jess wanted to know why she wanted the bottle.

He stared at it as he finished his meal. It looked so ordinary, like something his family would have to hold spices. He guessed the Mistress Vanderholt had some special use for it. Her voice brought his attention back. "Do you like it, young man?"

He wiped some stew off his chin and slunk down. "Oh, uh, yes ma'am."

Her grin widened. "Do you know what it is?"

He shook his head.

"It's a reduction bottle."

Jess shared a look with Leslie. She shrugged and he turned to Valerie as she took a small bite of cheese. He thought she knew what it was but she shook her head, not wanting to interrupt her mother's fun.

"It's a magic bottle." She leaned across the table, her eyes wide with mischief. "Do you wish to see how it works?"

Jess chewed a mouthful of bread and nodded. He leaned in close as the old woman pulled the cork. She took an apple from a nearby bowl and placed it atop the little mouth of the bottle. She leaned close and whispered, "_Reducto!_"

Jess felt his eyes go wide as he watched the apple shrink. It reduced in size so quickly it slipped into the bottle before he could blink. Jess peered close to see it sitting at the bottom. It looked so small it could be a cherry. She took several more and repeated the process until the bowl was empty. Jess gaped at the sight; she had added a bowlful of apples and the bottle wasn't even close to half full.

"That's the beauty of the reduction bottle," Mistress Vanderholt explained, "You could fit an entire bushel of apples in one bottle and carry them around in your pocket."

"Can you fit other things?"

She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "Of course you can."

Mistress Vanderholt poured the apples back into the bowl, and as Jess sat back, stunned at how the apples grew back to normal size as they tumbled out of the little bottle, Mistress Vanderholt took up one of the books she had received and placed it over the bottle mouth, whispering the magic word. Before Jess could blink, the book slipped down into the reduction bottle, smaller than seemed possible. Jess blinked, astonished at the miracle. Leslie seemed unimpressed.

"I can't believe it," he whispered.

"I can," Leslie grumbled. She took an apple and crunched into it. As she chewed, she gestured to the bottle. "Where did you acquire such a rare item?"

Valerie answered before her mother could speak. "I have friends in faraway places. They bring me things for my shop."

Jess pulled his eyes away from the bottle long enough to ask a question. "What kind of shop?"

"I own a magic shop in Westwood."

Jess liked the idea of a magic shop and asked her about it. He couldn't believe that he had witnessed real magic. Leslie seemed to come out of her bad mood a little and asked a few questions of her own. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the cottage, listening to tales of their new friends lives. Jess wanted to know about the other things in the cottage, the magic items Mistress Vanderholt said she had collected over the past few years. She promised to tell him about them someday.

As it grew late Jess stood, saying they had to get home.

Leslie nodded and started for the door. She tugged Jess' arm, urging him along. He gave an apology to their new friends and followed her out, stumbling as she pulled him along into the late afternoon air. The Vanderholt family waved goodbye as they left.

As they wandered through the forest, Jess worried about how late it had become. The forest was darker than ever and getting worse as they wound their way through the trees. Jess was grateful that the two of them had gotten all their chores done already, but he feared to be later for supper. He didn't want a whipping.

As the dry leaves crunched under Leslie's high black boots, he called out to her. She looked back at him. Jess had a hard tome seeing her in the shadows and gathering gloom. "Why didn't you like them," he heard himself ask.

"I just don't like it when people pretend to be something there not," she told him. "I just didn't enjoy her ruse about being a witch."

Jess nodded. He would have expected her to protest that she did like them, but he was just has happy that she didn't evade the question.

They were about to depart from the clearing when Valerie called out to them. She came running up with something in her hand. "My mother said you might like this," she explained, and handed it to Leslie.

It was a book.

Jess grunted. Books were useless. Anything you needed to know you could hear from somebody and if you couldn't remember something then you didn't need it. Writing things down so others could read them seemed silly to him. He wondered why Leslie looked happy to receive it.

She dipped her head and smiled. "Thank you."

Valerie returned the smile and nodded. "You don't have to take the rope back."

Jess and Leslie shared a look. "Then how do we get across?" Leslie asked.

"There's a bridge," Valerie explained. "You can only see it from this side."

Leslie didn't look convinced. Jess certainly wasn't. Such things were nonsense, bridges you couldn't see, except from one side. He shot Valerie a skeptical look. "How did you find it then?"

Valerie smiled at his question. "It can only be seen on that side by those who have crossed before." She leaned down close and whispered, "Keeps people out of here—most of the time."

Jess felt his face redden. They were somewhere they didn't belong. He had told Leslie that this wasn't their land. He scratched his head and stared at the ground murmuring an apology.

Valerie laughed. "But you two are always welcome."

Jess relaxed at hearing that. He enjoyed the visit and he thought maybe he would come back. Leslie made what sounded like a false promise that they would. He considered asking her when they would visit but she pulled away and bid Valerie goodbye. He waved to her and followed his friend out of the woods.

"Leslie," he asked when they were far into the woods. "Why did she give you that?"

Leslie shrugged. She held it out in front of her then flipped through the pages. "I think she wanted me to read it."

Jess laughed.

Leslie stopped and turned to him. "What's so funny?"

"She thought you could read." He tossed a pinecone through the trees and stumbled along. "Pretty funny."

"I can read, Jess."

The words stopped him. "What are you talking about?"

She nodded. "I can read." She held the book up and pointed to the cover. She ran her finger along the words as she spoke them. Jess watched her eyes move as she read them aloud. "_The Greatest Adventure_."

He couldn't believe it. "You can read?"

"Of course," she said with a smile. "I love to read."

"Where did you learn to read?"

She flipped through the book, squinting to read in the dark. "At the castle."

Jess frowned. He recalled Leslie telling him some of her time before they met, when she served a noble family. "Why would they teach a servant to read?"

Her eyes came up and her mouth hung open a moment as she struggled for an answer. "I… uh, I had to learn to read so I could take orders better. I couldn't always remember things they told me and sometimes I had to fetch things that needed to be right. I couldn't be allowed to forget or make a mistake."

Jess nodded at her explanation. He didn't know anything about castle and things, but it made sense that she would need to know certain things to work for nobles.

She hooked some hair behind an ear. "So… do you want to learn?"

He blinked. "Learn? Learn… what?"

"Learn to read." She held up the book. "I could teach you, if you want."

"I… I don't know." He looked away. "Is it really hard?"

Leslie smiled. "Not if you have a good teacher."

Jess laughed a little at her self-compliment. Then he nodded. "A-alright," he said, "I-I'll learn to read."

She grinned even more.


	6. Chapter 6

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 6**

They made their way through the darkening forest, Leslie allowing Jess to keep up and only trotting ahead when they at last came within view of the creek. Moonlight glinted off the surface of the murky gloom below, winking at them as if in secret promise.

The magic bridge was elaborate, a pavestone work with golden rails. Leslie ran on ahead, eager to try it, but Jess stopped her with a tug on her arm.

"I don't know about this," he warned. "What if something happens?"

She frowned. "Like what?"

"I-I dunno. Maybe it'll fall apart or something."

She gave him a dubious look. He didn't think much of his own argument but he didn't know what else to say. She handed him the book. "Then hold this, in case I fall in."

Jess gripped the book, wincing at her sardonic tone. The thought of her snide comment coming true didn't bring him any pleasure; the mere thought of his best friend tumbling into the dark, icy waters was terrifying. He wanted to object but she had already started across. She moved slowly, the wind ruffling her hair as she stepped towards the center of the bridge. She looked back then and smiled. Assured that the bridge wouldn't give way under her, he reluctantly returned her smile and urged her onward. She beckoned him to come and his smile evaporated. Jess didn't want her to think him a coward but he didn't think the bridge was really safe for two people. Jess thought to take the rope back. He liked the feeling of flying through the air. Maybe Leslie would appreciate his suggestion. He considered the book she gave him. He didn't want to lose it on the way over, and he really didn't think he could make it over the creek without dropping it.

Jess sighed, knowing he had no choice.

He had to cross the bridge.

Slowly, hands clutching the book to his quivering chest, he stepped out onto the stone. It held and as he made his way across he began to relax. He was almost at Leslie when he looked out across the water. It seemed so peaceful. He smiled as the wind blew through his hair. He wanted to stand there and listen to the rushing water. Leslie nudged his arm, stealing his attention. He handed the book over and returned his gaze to the creek. It didn't seem so imposing now. He even laughed at it.

He noticed Leslie's confused look and shrugged in explanation before following her as she made her way across the bridge. It seemed so wondrous to him that they never knew it was there. It seemed impossible that they couldn't have seen it. There was an archway at the head of the bridge and as they crossed under it, they stopped to look back. At the top of the arch loomed a golden sign. There were markings on it but the writing made no sense to him. It was all just scribbling. He looked to Leslie for an explanation.

"It says: Nothing Crushes Us."

It sounded good to him, like something a hero would say. He decided to remember that for later.

As they raced home to the sight of the setting sun, Jess laughed. It was only their fifth day since he had met Leslie and everything seemed to have changed. He was happier and stronger and freer than he had ever been. By the end of the week he had learned to sword fight, faced a wicked witch and gotten in and out of more trouble than he ever thought possible. He didn't know what would happen next, but he was sure he was ready.

They entered the house, laughing and talking. Jess was surprised to see father. He was usually wasn't home for supper. He stood like a towering tree, staring down at them.

He did not look pleased.

"Where have you two been?"

Jess and Leslie shared a look. Jess knew Leslie didn't want to tell, and he thought to make an excuse. "We were just—"

Brenda's teasing tone cut in, "You're late for supper." She had a smile on her face that Jess didn't like. His father cleared his throat, calling back his attention.

"Your mother was getting worried."

Jess' gaze found the ground. He mumbled that he was sorry. He knew father didn't like it when he upset mother. He also knew what happened when he became angry with him. Leslie's voice snapped him out of his despair. "It was my fault, Mr. Aarons. I kept him out late."

Jess stared openly at her, his jaw hanging. She clearly didn't know what she was getting herself into. He wanted to tell her to stop, but she had already taken the blame. Father stood there, staring down at Leslie, as if considering what he should do.

Jess already knew what he would decide; he had eaten too many suppers in tears not to know. Suddenly Brenda's smirk made sense.

As Father crossed his arms, Jess shrank back. It was time. Father called him over. He obeyed, trembling with every step. He called Leslie over too. She stopped in front of him and looked to Jess as father spoke. "I don't want you two late for supper anymore."

He saw the book Leslie held and reached for it. She handed it over. He flipped through it, examining the pages. Jess wasn't sure how much his father could read but he knew better than to ask.

After pausing a moment, father closed the book. "Where'd you get this?"

Leslie answered in as meek a voice as he had ever heard from her. "Oh, um, we found it outside, near the creek," she lied. Jess knew she didn't want to go on at length about Mrs. Vanderholt. He was relieved knowing they were in enough trouble as it was.

Father looked at Leslie as if weighing her words in his mind like a sack of grain. He handed the book to Jess and told him to put it away. Jess nodded and moved to fetch the ladder and Leslie tried to follow but father caught her by the arm. "Not you, young lady. I think you have something to learn about the rules of this house."

Jess could practically hear her swallow as she gazed up into father's stern eyes. "Please, Mr. Aarons," she begged, tugging to free her arm, "I-I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

His expression remained stern, his grip solid. "Then maybe next time you'll be mindful of when we eat supper, young lady."

He said no more then, just sat down and hauled Leslie across his lap. She pressed her hands against his leg and tried to push herself up but his big hand on her back gently forced her back down, pinning her in place. Jess winced as Leslie grunted with the effort of her struggle. Jess' eyes involuntarily flicked to her upturned bottom as father raised his callused hand.

The entire room was quiet, everyone sitting around the table, waiting patiently for father to do his job. Only Brenda's snicker broke the silence.

As father's hand swung down, Jess swallowed hard, turning away from the sight.

A muffled _pop_ filled the room and then Jess heard Leslie's sharp gasp. He knew father's hand had just swatted her behind and that it was only beginning. The second smack made her cry out. Jess flinched at the sound. He felt a dark chill run through him as he busied himself with positioning the ladder, trying not to look back at Leslie. Jess closed his eyes as her cries grew louder with each successive _pop_ heating her backside.

The ladder in position, he turned to glance back at his friend. Her scrawny form was sprawled across father's lap; she was struggling futilely against his firm grip, as his free hand landed sharp smacks against her upturned rump. Jess turned away from the distressing sight, just as father's calloused palm landed another hard slap on her tender rear. She cried out again, kicking her spindly legs and gasping desperately at what Jess knew was searing pain just beginning to flare across her backside.

As father gave her bottom several successive swats, her yelps dissolved into long howls and she clutched the sides of father's leg for support. She broke into tears, begging him to stop, promising to behave but Jess knew his father didn't hold with promises made during punishment. He kept up his handiwork and as Leslie's pleas crumbled into howls and helpless sobs, Jess climbed the rickety ladder to his room. He could hear the spanking continuing from there and as each muffled _pop_ sent Leslie into a new fit of howling, Jess lowered his head and covered his ears, trying to block out the sound.

He pressed his hands tighter against his head as he heard Leslie begin to cry his name between swats.

Jess knew he could do nothing to help; Leslie needed to learn some respect and this was the only way father knew to teach her. He slumped down onto his pallet and stared at the book in his trembling hands. As the sounds of Leslie's punishment floated to him, Jess trembled. He knew his turn would come right after hers and he didn't like to consider how much it would hurt. He ran his hands over the smooth leather cover of _The Greatest Adventure_, he silently wishing he could read.

It might help him to forget what was happening to Leslie.

Leslie had promised to teach him to read, but he wasn't so sure she would want to keep her promise or if she would even remember it after her punishment.

At last there came a great _pop_ and one final cry. Jess held his breath waiting for the next. It didn't come. It was over. He let out his breath in a rush. When Jess was called, he came down quickly, to the sound of Leslie's whining sobs. Mother was holding her close, gently rubbing her back as she wept in her arms. Jess flinched when he saw how bright his best friend's face had become and he shuddered to think how red her bottom might be and how sore his own was about to become.

His turn across fathers lap was about as much as he expected and as they both stood crying, rubbing their aching bottoms, father made them both promise never to be late for supper again. They both nodded and as they sat down for supper, Jess winced. He saw in the firelight Leslie's red face glistening with tears and knew she felt what he was feeling.

Father sat down at the head of the table and warned them that next time he would use the willow switch. Jess' blood ran cold at that; as bad as their punishment had been, he knew a switching would have been much worse.

Everyone began the meal quietly, afraid to talk. They all kept their heads down; even Brenda dared say nothing to upset father.

Jess and Leslie wept silently throughout dinner, eating like birds, each afraid to upset father anymore than they already had. Jess didn't even look at Leslie again until well into the night, when he watched her from his pallet. She lay turned away from him. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or still crying. It occurred to him that she probably never had a spanking before and that the experience was a bit shocking.

His own bottom still throbbed and he knew it would be sore for another day at least. The only comfort he felt was that perhaps Leslie had gained some respect for father's rules.

_Well, _he thought as he rubbed his smoldering behind, _lesson learned_.

* * * * *

The next morning was unusually quiet. Jess watched Leslie carefully, searching for any trace of tears. There were none, but she wasn't quite as boisterous as usual.

"Nothing like a spanking to take the spunk out of a girl," he mumbled.

She turned to him with a questioning frown. "What?"

He shook his head, his cheeks reddening. "Nothing, I was just… wondering if you wanted to have breakfast."

She gave him a big Leslie-smile. "Sure." She lead him to the ladder going down first without hesitation.

Jess felt relief wash over him. Leslie was fine. He wanted to ask about her bottom, to see if she was alright, but mother beat him to it.

"I'm fine," Leslie assured her. Jess was more than glad to hear it.

It seemed that it had all been a strange dream, the spankings, the crying, all of it. Leslie seemed fine now. His own rump still stung and he was certain he had gotten punished. The way Leslie smiled though made him think she hadn't.

As they sat down to eat, he watched her carefully and as her bottom brushed the bench, Leslie cringed. Jess smiled in satisfaction. She had been spanked after all. Jess and Leslie leaned across the table to talk. They kept their voices low as everyone else talked about different things.

"How's your bottom?"

She winced. "Sore!" she whispered. "How's yours?"

He told her it felt the same. He fiddled his cider cup. "So… you're not mad?"

"About what?"

He accepted a plate from May Belle and waited till she walked away before speaking again. "About your spanking."

Leslie frowned. "Why would I be mad?" She stirred her plateful of eggs and shrugged. "I broke the rules and I got punished."

Jess was relieved to hear her casual acceptance. He didn't even know if she would still be around after the spanking she had received. Father had never been overly friendly with Leslie and Jess feared she would run off into the night after the punishment she received.

As they ate breakfast, Jess considered talking to her about what happened. He couldn't think of exactly what to say, but as time went by, he realized there wasn't much he could tell her. As they ate, mother gathered up a bundle of clothes and with Ellie's help, headed to the river to wash them. They left Brenda behind to take charge of May Belle.

As Jess finished eating, Leslie stepped away from the table. "I think we should get our chores done now."

Brenda cleared some plates and came up behind her. "You better hurry, too," she teased, a wicked grin stealing onto her smug face, "Or father will give you both a repeat performance."

She slapped Leslie's rear, making her jump. She grabbed her behind with a yelp. Jess shot out of his seat. Brenda met his glare with open challenge. "Careful, now," she warned, raising a finger to mark her point. "You don't want father finding out you attacked me—especially after being late for supper last night."

He clenched his fists but stood rooted in place, glaring at her smirk. Brenda was right. He'd be in for another whipping and Brenda would probably tell father it was all Leslie's fault, so she'd get one too. Jess was just about to scream something hateful at her when Leslie grabbed his arm and pulled him along, toward the door.

When they were outside, he wrenched his arm away from her. "Why'd you do that?" He didn't mean to yell at her; he just didn't understand why she wouldn't let him defend her.

"You'd only make it worse, Jess—for both of us."

He heaved a sigh. She was right. He didn't know what to do. He thought about telling father, but he figured he would only get a swat for being petty and bothering him with nonsense. It also occurred to him that perhaps he was being petty, that Brenda was just playing around. He still didn't like anyone hurting his friend. Still, he knew Leslie was right; there was nothing he could do. Jess let out a deep breath and with it his anger. He nodded his agreement and walked off towards the pond. Leslie strolled along by his side.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as they shuffled along. "So, you're really okay?"

"I guess."

"I… thought you'd be mad."

She shielded her eyes against the sun as she glanced over. "At you?"

"No." He knelt in the grass beside the pond. The coolness beneath the shade of the nearby trees calmed him. "I thought you'd be mad at my father." The sunlight shimmered on the surface of the pond as he ran his hand through the dark water.

"Oh," she said sinking down beside him. He noticed how careful she was not to sit back on her heels as she leaned out over the pond. She brushed back her wheat-colored hair and rinsed her slender hands a bit. "Well, I was a little mad—at first."

As much as she'd cried, he imagined she was more than 'a little mad.'

"But you're not angry now?"

The wind whistled through the maple trees, blowing her golden hair across her face. She shook it back into place and flashed him a smile. "I had a lot of time to think about why he did what he did. I thought about what it meant."

He nodded, not having any idea what she was talking about.

As she gazed into the pond, Leslie spoke, her voice becoming soft and solemn. "I've never actually been spanked before." Jess glanced at her, surprised she had admitted it. He didn't say anything, just listened as she went on. "I couldn't sleep for about an hour after we went to bed. I just stayed awake, crying and thinking." She picked at some grass and looked away. Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear it. "I thought maybe we deserved it."

Jess put his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe I did, Leslie, but you didn't."

He meant it too. If he could have taken it for her, he would have. To his continuing surprise, she shook her head. "We were late for supper." Leslie turned to look at him directly. She had that look, like she was trying to find words to explain something. "The way I figure it, you're father works very hard, right?" Jess nodded. Sometimes he couldn't believe how hard his father worked. "Well, because we were late, he had to wait for his supper. On top of that, he had to take what energy he had left after a full day of work and use it to discipline the two of us." His face went red at the memory as Leslie skipped a stone across the pond. Jess watched it skim the surface and sink after three hits. Leslie cleared her throat. "He had to wait for us to come home and then finish with us before he could eat." She gave him a sad look. "His supper was probably cold by then."

Jess grunted. He hadn't thought about that. He had assumed that he and Leslie were the only ones made to pay for their being late, but he guessed he was wrong. Leslie sighed. "We cost him a warm meal." She winced as she rubbed her rear. "I guess we deserved to have warm bottoms."

Jess suddenly felt guilty for causing his father so much grief. He never even considered his father's problems at all. "H-His hand was probably really sore too."

Leslie smiled. "As raw as we are right now, I can imagine how sore it must have been."

Jess smiled back and tossed a stone into the pond. It sank along with his foolish old beliefs. He was being selfish, he now knew. Jess didn't think his father's callused hands could feel much pain but he considered that they might be sore after all. He never thought much about the nature of punishment, just how to avoid it. That father would take the time to provide it told him more than he ever realized. His estimation of his father raised a little and his respect for Leslie increased greatly.

Getting whipped by someone else's father wasn't something most people could handle, but Leslie was better than that; she had accepted the rules of the house and the punishments for breaking them. It was the price she paid for staying with them and she had clearly decided it was worth it. Jess never understood how she could take something so bad and change it into something good.

Then she made it even better.

"I actually think of it as something of an honor."

"What are you talking about?"

She gave him a tight lipped smile. "Well, does your father spank anyone outside your family?"

"No, of course not; fathers only discipline their own children."

"Well, doesn't that make me part of the family?"

He snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Leslie gave a knowing nod. "Your father honored me by treating me the same as his own." She rubbed her bottom again. "I guess I'm really an Aarons now."

Jess couldn't argue with that. If you were disciplined, you were an Aarons. If you were sore and tired and stank, you were an Aarons. If you were poor and had no hope of a better life, you were an Aarons. He told Leslie all of it. She laughed and added, "Maybe I should change my name, then."

"To what?" he scoffed.

"Aarons."

Jess beamed. "Leslie Aarons." He liked the sound of that. He liked the idea of Leslie being his sister and he being her brother. Leslie was by far the best sister he ever had. He watched her as she leaned out over the pond, taking a handful of water and cleaning her face and when Jess saw her behind sticking out, he couldn't resist.

Raising his hand, he shouted, "Welcome to the family, Leslie Aarons!" and gave her rump a good-natured swat. She bolted upright with a squeal.

"Jess!" she gasped, rubbing her behind. "Why did you do that?"

He gave her a helpless shrug. "That's what brothers are for!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes**: Okay, first I just want to thank all of you who gave reviews this past week. Not only were they encouraging, but they helped me by not criticizing my decision to include a spanking scene. I was worried that people would be upset by my choice to write in detail something so potentially controversial and I would like to thank you all for your understanding.

I really thought the original story of Bridge to Terabithia (both the movie and the book) lacked a proper confrontation between Jess' father and his best friend. In both versions, the two of them were the biggest influences in Jess' life and their conflicting viewpoints were a recipe for conflict. In the book, this conflict was minimal, in the movie non-existent. Confrontation being the lifeblood of all great stories, I had to include a part where Jack shows Leslie who is really in charge. Mind you, I wouldn't have even thought to get away with it if Leslie's parents were still in the picture, but seeing as they're out of the way, Jack was free to take Leslie over his knee.

Now that she knows whose in charge, Leslie will be more careful, but you're mistaken if you think she won't be mischievous. It's her nature to seek adventure. Don't worry about her; she won't stop being herself just because she got hurt.

I would also like to point out that although it's not yet the sixteenth, it's still the second Friday of February which makes this the third year since Bridge to Terabithia hit theaters. In the movieverse, this is the anniversary of both Leslie's birth and her death.

On behalf of all of us fans, I would just like to say: Happy anniversary, Leslie.

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 7**

Leslie tackled him. Hard.

Jess felt himself fall, and then the impact of his back slamming into the ground blasted away his breath. Leslie sprawled atop him, her red face hovering above his.

"I'll kill you!" she shouted.

"You can't kill me," Jess laughed, "I'm your brother!"

"Okay, no killing." She pulled back and punched his shoulder. "Just a lot of bruising!"

Jess wrenched her to the side and as she toppled, he rolled over her. Laughing, she kept the tumbling momentum going and soon they were both rolling across the ground, trying desperately to pin each other. Their playful wrestling match got the two of them covered with dirt but they kept it up, not caring. Eventually Mother returned from the river to find them playing and had to come and break them up. Neither Leslie nor Jess was really angry with each other; their playful tumbling was just a bit of fun. Mother, of course, was not amused and had taken her hand to Leslie's backside. She jumped with a shriek and Jess laughed until he received a similar smack.

They both stood there, then, rubbing their bottoms and feeling decidedly foolish. Mother huffed her displeasure.

"I can't believe you two are mucking about when there are chores to be done. Get to work," she scolded them, "and then to the pond to bathe. You won't want to be looking like that when father comes home."

They shared a frightened look. Neither of them wanted to be caught like that and they both promised to have their chores done on time so they could bathe and change their clothes before father returned.

The work was difficult, but enjoyable, as it always was with Leslie. They took turns playing games about who could get the most done and by the time the sun was setting, both were seated at the table, clean and fresh. Neither wanted a repeat performance of their discipline session. Jess spent the rest of the evening thinking about their bath.

They took it in the pond, since the only other place to bathe was the river. The river was more than a quarter of a mile wide, but no more than knee-deep in any one place and the current was always so docile that children of the nearby town swam often and without fear. The spring floods were the only time he ever saw the river swell to deeper levels.

The family pond was much more secluded; some old maple trees screened it from view, affording them some rare privacy.

Jess stood at the shore, shifting uncomfortably as Leslie did the same. Neither was entirely comfortable with bathing together. They ate, slept and played together, but they did it all with their clothes on. It was another matter to be naked. He cleared his throat and tried to ask which one of them should go first. Leslie sighed into the silence, cutting off his question. She rolled her eyes as she slipped off her vest. "This is ridiculous." She unbuttoned her shirt. "We're friends, Jess. And we're already like brother and sister." He blushed as she let her filthy shirt slip to the ground. "And we don't want to get into any more trouble, right?"

He nodded, his eyes locked to his filthy feet. He heard her slip off her trousers and toss them aside. "There," she declared. "I'm naked."

Jess didn't look up. He didn't want to deal with this. Leslie was family, but she was still a girl he had only known for about a week. Their baths were usually separate sessions with the wash basin and a cloth but they were out of time now. They both stank of sweat and manure from their chores and a simple cloth scrubbing wouldn't do. Jess felt his face heating. As much as he wanted to get clean, Jess didn't want to do it in front of a girl. Leslie playfully shoved his shoulder, jostling him out of his stupor.

Jess stared into her bluish-green eyes. His eyes flicked down, involuntarily, as if knowing what was there made it impossible not to look. He saw her bare form, not unlike his own. Underneath the thin layer of grime was the fairest skin he had ever beheld. It seemed as white as the clouds. Leslie made no move to cover her bareness, though he was almost certain she would. His heart pounded against his chest as he glanced all the way down her scrawny legs to her bare feet and after a moment, Jess almost laughed. He was being foolish. Leslie was just a girl, a girl he knew better than anyone. He had seen his sisters naked, all of them from the time he could walk. He was even required to give May Belle an occasional bath. There was nothing different about Leslie.

He looked back up to see her dirt-covered face glowing bright red. She grinned sheepishly and rolled her eyes. "I've never been naked while out-of-doors…or in front of a boy." He nodded that he understood. She frowned. "Aren't you going to…?"

"Oh, right." He had forgotten about his part. As he began fumbling with the buttons, Leslie helped him undress. His face heated as he slipped off his shirt. Leslie, in spite of her earlier words, turned her back to him when he pulled down his pants. She giggled as he tossed them into the pile. Jess' eyes fell on Leslie's now-bare behind, noting that the red marks from her whipping had almost faded.

She wouldn't turn to him, so he thought about tapping her shoulder when Brenda's voice cut through the air, distracting him. "Well, well, how cute!"

Leslie squealed and ducked behind Jess as they watched her approach. She clearly didn't feel comfortable around Brenda without her clothes. Brenda laughed derisively and tossed them a bar of soap. Jess caught it and glared at his sister as she sneered. "Mother says to quit playing around and finish bathing or father will have your hides."

Jess passed the soap back to Leslie and sighed. They had a job to do and as Leslie scratched her filthy blonde head, he slipped around her and made his way to the water's edge. Brenda grumbled about them being too modest when they didn't have anything to be modest about, while Leslie slipped over to the grassy bank and knelt down.

She reached out and skimmed the surface of the water. "Ooh," she complained with a shiver. "That's cold."

Jess kept an eye to Brenda. Her arms folded across her chest, as she huffed an impatient sigh. "Well, I'm sorry, _princess,_ but we didn't have time to heat up your bath." A wicked grin stole onto her face. "But it's not so bad… once you get in."

Jess watched as Brenda slipped up behind Leslie and stood on one foot. She placed the other a few inches from her exposed behind. Jess eyes went wide. Leslie didn't notice as she dipped her hand into the water to check the temperature again. Jess could barely shout a warning as Brenda thrust her leg forward, driving her foot into Leslie's bottom, sending her sprawling face-first into the pond with a shriek.

As she disappeared beneath the inky surface, Jess held his breath. A moment later, she burst up out of the water, coughing and choking, trying desperately to catch her breath.

"Are you okay?" Jess managed. He was holding onto his laughter as best he could. Leslie was clean of most of the dirt, her face dripping wet as she glared up at a laughing Brenda.

"Are you crazy?" she coughed, "I could've drowned!"

That did it. Jess clutched his sides as he let a big belly laugh roll out of him. He laughed so hard it hurt. He stood there howling until he was dizzy. He just couldn't help himself. Leslie swam over to the shore as she muttered about what a crazy family she'd become a part of. Shivering, her wet hair plastered darkly across her scalp, she reached the grassy sore and looked up at him. Jess managed to control his muffled giggles long enough to extend a hand to help her back out. Her slender fingers snatched his wrist instead and, to his horror, Leslie pulled back with all her might. His feet left the bank as he toppled over her head and into the pond.

As his bare body smacked the solid surface of the water, Jess felt the jab of a thousand needles of ice piercing his flesh. It was colder than he imagined and he had expected the coldest bath ever. He froze so much in that instant he couldn't breathe. Underwater as he was, he thought it the only bit of good fortune. His feet found the bottom and he launched himself up. Dim afternoon light greeted him as he breached the surface, sucking in a desperate gasp, the numbness just beginning to settle through his body.

Leslie was nearby, staring at him, her arms folded, with a look of smug triumph plastered across her dripping face. "What's wrong?" she asked in her prissiest voice, "Is the water too cold for you, Master Aarons?"

He sent a splash of water into her face. She shrieked and splashed him back. They spent another minute or two laughing and playfully splashing each other. Jess felt something strike his head. It landed in the water with a dull _smack_. As it floated by, he snatched it up. It was the bar of soap. Brenda was still waiting on the bank of the pond. He knew she had thrown it at him deliberately and he considered pulling her in the same way as Leslie had done to him. He knew she would twist his ear off, before telling father and adding a whipping, so he resigned himself to scrubbing down with the soap and passing it to Leslie before dipping himself to wash it off again.

When they were finished, Leslie climbed out of the water first, saying it was only fair, since she had been in the longest. Jess didn't mind, as it gave him a chance to observe her bottom. He noticed that the redness he had at first noticed had vanished from her flesh and as he rubbed his own bottom, he realized he was better for having bathed in the cool water.

Jess wished they had thought of soaking their bottoms before to cool away the sting.

Brenda rushed them through getting dressed and they were all dry and ready for supper before the sun went down. Their hair was slicked back and combed neatly. Jess liked how dark the water made Leslie's hair look. It made her seem more like the other girls of the Aarons family, more like she belonged with them. As they sat at the table, listening to the cook-fire crackling behind them, Jess shared a private look with his new sister.

They both giggled. Jess knew she was thinking the same as he: It was the most interesting bath either of them ever had.

*****

Over the course of the next month "Leslie Aarons" became a trusted member of the Aarons family. She never let her hair grow past her jaw line, using mother's scissors to trim it whenever it began to brush against her neck. Jess didn't understand her reason for keeping her hair short, but after so many weeks of working beside her, he had learned to stop questioning. Leslie was unusual; that was just her way. Even the way she dressed seemed a mystery. She never wore a dress, although mother often reminded her that she would put one together for her if she liked. Leslie always politely refused, saying she favored simple woolen trousers for weeding the garden and collecting eggs. Brenda and Ellie, who had always worn dresses, thought it very weird that she favored pants and had taken to calling her "Little Miss Weird-Pants." Despite mother's objections, the name stuck. Jess had a few names for _them_, but he never voiced them, preferring to insist that they just call his friend by her chosen title, "Miss Leslie Aarons."

In spite of the commotion, clothing wasn't really an issue for them; Jess and Leslie were about the same size and found they could wear each others clothes without always knowing it. Eventually Leslie took to stitching swirling designs into her pant-legs to mark them as her own. The designs did make her pants seem more girlish but Brenda and Ellie still made fun of "Little Miss Weird-Pants." Such things never seemed to hurt Leslie and even though her boyish appearance provided many opportunities for name-calling, she would always just shrug and find something nice to say about her tormentors. Jess couldn't be sure, but he began to think that he knew why Leslie smiled whenever they teased her.

Jess suspected the teasing made her feel even more like family.

As the weeks passed, Jess found that Leslie hadn't forgotten her promise to teach him how to read. He listened intently as she explained the nature of the craft. While they were pulling weeds, Leslie would take up a stick and draw symbols in the dirt which, to Jess, looked as meaningless as the scratching left by the chickens. Leslie assured him they meant something. Jess watched her hand move slowly, smoothly carving out a new shape each time. She drew various forms and as she pointed to a symbol and spoke its name, he repeated it. After a while, Jess had learned to identify various letters and could even read and write whole sentences. He marveled at the wonder of his new power; it almost seemed like some sort of magic. Leslie assured him it was not, and that anyone could learn to read if they really wanted. She also told him that he was her best student and that he should be proud of how far he had come in such a short while. His final test came when she handed him the book that Valerie had given them and asked him to read it. He tried, but often times Leslie had to correct some pronunciation or phrase and he would grow frustrated. She told him he was doing well and to keep trying. He decided it would be best if they took a break and just talked for a while.

Jess always enjoyed talking with Leslie. Some of the best times they ever had were just sitting around the garden, or near the pond, talking. They spoke of many things, from the weather and animals, to their favorite games and songs and their least favorite chores.

They never talked about Valerie or her mother. Their extended trips into the woods remained their little secret. They visited several times a week, sneaking off after chores to drink ginger tea with them while they shared stories. Mrs. Vanderholt's tales rivaled even Leslie's and Jess had a hard time deciding whose stories he favored. Jess finally decided he liked them both.

The Vanderholts were well-versed in herb-lore and Leslie and Jess spent much of their time learning about various herbs. Leslie was a good student, learning quickly the names of cooking herbs and taking samples home to add to the family meals. Mother was pleased by the free spices. There were even some sweet-smelling herbs that when added to the cookfire, released a pleasant scent that combated the stench of the animals. Others they tied to the wattle pens and the walls of the privy. Jess savored the scents and even helped Leslie plant a few herbs in the garden for future use. Mistress Vanderholt was pleased to hear how they had used the gifts and taught Leslie and Jess even more about plants and mushrooms, pointing out which were poisonous, which were tasty and which were just pretty. Jess found he loved tromping through the woods gathering mushrooms, nuts and berries and the occasional wild apples. All that they collected helped to make the treats Mistress Vanderholt cooked for them taste even better.

Even though most of the family wasn't interested in what they did, May Belle often begged to come along on their excursions. Jess simply told her she couldn't keep up and often threatened to tell her secrets to everyone if she tried to follow. Leslie never really insisted that he let her come along and that made him feel even more comfortable. Leslie often tried to console May Belle by playing with her on occasion, telling her stories and surprising her with treats gifted from Mistress Vanderholt.

It seemed that Leslie had become the big sister May Belle always wanted. Mother was impressed with her politeness, chiding everyone that they could learn from her example. She always got her chores done on time without being asked and that pleased father well enough—she was rarely in trouble and most often her correction was a firm swat on her bottom to send her scurrying to her chores or to remind her of things she had neglected.

After a time, everyone took a liking to her—except Brenda, but she didn't like anyone anyway. She would often complain about Leslie, saying it was bad enough having Jess around without his "little woman" crowding the table. Jess thought it was because Leslie made her look bad in front of mother. Brenda was lazy, and he guessed having Leslie's example call attention to her laziness made her uncomfortably conspicuous.

The previous week mother had been after her about caring for the animals—a job Brenda despised—and when she tried to beg off, Leslie volunteered. Brenda gave her a dirty look which Leslie would only answer with a heart-warming smile and a gentle wave of her hand. Jess found it confounding that Leslie could be nice to people who were mean to her. It didn't make sense. He thought for sure Leslie would say something, but she just got to work instead. Jess sighed. He didn't think he would ever understand her.

As he joined her in the barn area of their long house, Jess couldn't help but notice her beaming grin, even hidden as it was beneath the red kerchief she wrapped over her nose. Jess was pleased that she had figured out a way to lessen the smell of the animals and by adding a few sweet-smelling herbs to their masks they were able to work without being bothered much at all.

Leslie seemed to have an answer for all of life's little problems. At times she displayed the good sense, even wisdom, of someone many times her age. Other times, like many of the boys her age, she seemed interested in nothing as much as mischief. She was the kind of person who wore a smile even when she wasn't up to something, which made the times she planned for trouble even harder to detect. Jess wondered how mother couldn't see through her pleasant mask to the real person underneath. For most of his life, Jess believed his mother a mind-reader of inscrutable power; she always seemed to know what he was thinking about misbehaving. Since Leslie came, he had begun wondering if his mother's power wasn't somehow broken or maybe that Leslie had a greater power to deceive her. Leslie was polite by nature, never treating anyone with disrespect and her kindness wasn't a trick, like Brenda's often was; it was just her nature but in spite of her genuine warmth Leslie's mind was always cooking up some new tricks to play. Leslie never meant any harm but Jess was certain that if mother could ever peer into her mind and see how full of mischief she really was, she would have thrown Leslie out on her scrawny bottom.

As he watched her work, Jess couldn't help but admire Leslie's way with animals. She handled them the way she handled people: with kindness and respect. Jess had never thought of animals needing respect, but then, nobody had ever thought to give him any either. Jess smiled at his memory of when he taught Leslie to milk the family cow. He had told her how to do it properly so she wouldn't waste milk. He also warned her against drinking any of it, as raw milk could make one sick; it had to be made into hard cheese or butter before it would be safe.

Afterwards, mother thanked them for helping out and sent them out to play. Brenda glared and tried to trip up Leslie but she held her feet and stumbled into a run, challenging Jess to keep up as she sped out the door. Jess promised to help her get even with Brenda someday.

"I don't think mother would like that," she told him.

Jess sighed. "I guess not."

Jess was never put off by the way Leslie spoke so casually about his family. Occasionally, when they were having one of their private conversations, Leslie would refer to Jess' mother as simply "mother." Leslie would always laugh when he pointed it out. As she blushed, she corrected herself, but Jess liked the way she slipped. It seemed right that Leslie thought of Jess' mother as her own; it made the two of them more like siblings. Jess told mother, of course, and she beamed when she heard, making him promise not to tell Leslie that he told. Jess kept his promise, afraid that if she knew he told, it would embarrass his friend and ruin the trust they had built.

The end of the first month brought Jess a rare opportunity: Jess got to see Leslie work a task at which she wasn't immediately perfect. The river trout had been biting and father brought up a whole string of fresh fish for supper. He immediately set to work cleaning them on the old ash table in the backyard. Leslie asked if she might join him and before father could tell her otherwise, she took up the spare knife and started in on a fish. Her technique was sloppy and father told her so, taking the knife in his hands and showing her the proper technique. She listened attentively and tried again.

At first, father stood behind her, fists on his hips, giving gruff corrections to her technique, but after a while, as he saw she could clean a fish without cutting herself, he trusted her to do it on her own, heading back into the house to rest. Jess wished he could learn like her, but father said he was "all thumbs" and wouldn't allow it. Jess remained a goodly distance away and watched Leslie work. When she looked up to wipe her forehead with the back of her arm, she noticed him watching. Smiling, she invited him to come over and help.

He immediately rushed to her side and started in on a fish, listening carefully as Leslie offered gentle instructions. Jess learned quickly and by suppertime, he had cleaned more than a few fish of his own. Leslie told him how proud she was and that somehow made the work seem even more rewarding. Father was pleased not to have to clean the fish himself anymore, allowing him time to attend to other things and that he could trust them both to do it right in his absence.

While he never said as much, Jess knew his father was proud of them both.

Leslie never failed to surprise Jess and her most exciting surprises often improved his life in ways he never imagined. The things she came up with were astounding—mostly because he had never thought of them himself. He remembered vividly the day she looked at him and told him that she meant to build a chicken coop. At first, Jess thought she was joking, but in no time at all she had drawn out a plan in the soft dirt and scrounged up some materials with which to build it. Jess didn't know where she obtained half the stuff she used but she always seemed to find it when they needed it. When he would ask where in the world she found a particular piece for their new work, she would simply shrug and tell him that she had "looked around and gotten lucky."

Jess didn't mind her secrets. He knew by now to trust her and for all he knew, she really did just "get lucky." The stuff she brought looked old and previously used so he figured she wasn't stealing anything, except maybe from scrap piles. No one cared if you saved them the trouble of hauling things away, but Leslie always dreamed up a story of how she stole it from a family of ogres or trolls and need him to help the next time.

The two of them worked hard, and within a week, they had a respectable place for the chickens to roost. Jess was proud of their work and pleased that he wouldn't have to hunt around for eggs anymore. Leslie lamented that fact as the only drawback, saying that they wouldn't be able to hunt for egg-treasures anymore. Jess just laughed.

It was around lunchtime when they walked into the longhouse, their wicker-woven baskets—the ones Leslie showed everyone how to make—loaded with eggs. Mother admitted they were easy to make and were a lot better for carrying the eggs—especially to market. Jess and Leslie talked quietly as they set down their baskets and went to wash up. Brenda and Ellie were arguing with mother about something and Jess lamented the fact that no one would praise their latest haul of eggs.

He slowed to a stop as he listened to their argument.

"But Mother," Brenda whined, "I need to look nice for the boys!"

Ellie nodded her eager agreement. "They have to notice us."

Mother heaved a despondent sigh. "We just don't have the money right now," she explained. She seemed on the verge of strained patience. "With the extra expenses..."

Jess felt a dark chill run through him. He knew that the "extra expenses" she spoke of were because of Leslie. Since Leslie had come into their lives, things had been better but they had also been more costly. Of course, Leslie always earned her keep and Jess suspected mother of using her as an excuse to justify not buying the girls any new material for dresses. Although he didn't look, Jess swore he could feel his big sister's eyes boring into the back of his head as he stood at the wash basin. He was the one who had brought Leslie home after all, and, to their minds, it was his fault they wouldn't get what they wanted.

He shuddered to think what they would do to repay him.

Not wanting to find out, Jess grabbed Leslie's wrist and tugged her along as he fled the house. As they made their way outside, Leslie's voice brought him out of his worry.

"What were they going on about?"

They made their way a bit from the house before he felt it was safe to talk. "Girl-stuff, mostly." Jess kicked a small stone, sending it off down the road and wishing it would take his sisters with it. "They want new dresses to wear to the festival."

Leslie hooked some hair behind an ear. "What festival?"

"You know—the festival." Seeing her brow furrow, he realized she didn't know. "Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "Well, it's uh, this event where everybody in Westwood and the surrounding villages gathers to talk, dance, and eat a lot of food. It's something they do every year." He shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"It sounds like a big deal to them," she said, gesturing back to the house.

He snorted a laugh. "Yeah, they think they'll find husbands and get married. Every year they get mother to make them new dresses and fix up their hair to look pretty." He snickered, casting a wary glance back at the house as he leaned toward her. "Pretty _stupid_."

Leslie wasn't amused. "I don't think it's stupid, Jess. I think it's nice."

He gaped at her. "You like that stuff?"

"Well, of course!" She leapt about then, spinning and jumping in the road. "I love to dance!"

He tried not to laugh as he watched her twisting and turning. The thought came to him that she should be wearing a dress and he could suppress a laugh no longer. As he let it out, she turned to a stop and stood staring. "What's so funny?"

He waved her question away, chuckling. "Nothing," he breathed, "Nothing, its just…"

"What?" She crossed her arms over her chest and slumped a little. "You don't like my dancing?"

He kept laughing as he tried to explain. "No, no, it's just that I was—well, I was just imagining you… dancing at the festival."

"_And_?"

He pointed at her legs. "You can't wear pants to the festival, Leslie!"

He shook his head in wonder at her ignorance as her face turned red. "Well, what am I supposed to do," she asked, "go to this festival _naked _or something?"

Jess blinked at her absurd comment. "No, you're supposed to wear a dress!" She still didn't get the joke. He gasped a breath as his laughter died away. "I-I just can't imagine you—in a dress." He guffawed. "That'd be a sight!"

Jess thought it would be like wearing a dress himself.

Leslie appeared a little lost as he giggled again. She almost looked hurt. Jess felt bad for her; he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. He was just about to apologize when she stalked past him, toward the house. He chased her and almost reached her when she went through the entrance and called to his mother.

Jess felt a chill run through him. He didn't think she would ever tell on him; but then he had never seen a look on her face like the one she gave him a moment before. He heard her ask something, but he wasn't sure what it was, exactly. He eased his way into the room and saw Leslie standing before his mother. Mother straightened then and seemed to consider. Then she smiled. She patted Leslie on the shoulder and said, "Of course, dear."

Leslie thanked her and left without another word.

Brenda and Ellie followed her out, neither looking happy.

Jess eased towards his mother then and ventured a question, expecting the answer to be a swat on his behind. "What did she want?"

"Oh, she just wanted something to wear to the festival, that's all." Mother sat on her stool and went back to her spinning. "I told her I would make a nice dress for her."

Jess blinked. "You promised…" he stammered. "But I thought…"

Mother stopped her spinning and looked at him as if he were daft. "I promised her a dress." She frowned. "Is there a problem?"

It was a problem. If Leslie went to the festival, she might want to dance—with him!

He couldn't tell mother that of course. She would probably make him dance with her. He thought to take a different road.

"Well, I thought you said we didn't have any money for a new dress." He smiled at his cleverness and added, "You said Brenda and Ellie couldn't have one." It occurred to him that he could use their help right then, but they had followed Leslie out the door.

Mother frowned at him. "I said we didn't have the money to buy new material for dresses; Leslie has no objection to helping me make one for her to wear. We'll just make it out of one of your sister's old dresses, the ones they wore when they were Leslie's age."

That was it. Jess was stuck. He didn't see a way out of it. He was going to take Leslie to the dance and look like a fool—in front of the whole town! Everybody everywhere would laugh at him and his "little woman," asking when they would be wed. He couldn't stand the thought of it.

But he had no choice. He was doomed.

As mother got back to her spinning, he shuffled woodenly out the door, his only consolation being that he would get to see how silly Leslie looked in a dress.


	8. Chapter 8

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 8**

The day of the festival arrived faster than Jess expected. He's spent the entire week dreading the dance and, at the same time, looking forward to seeing Leslie in a dress. He just couldn't picture her wearing something so girlish. As hard as she worked on it, though, he figured he'd better not laugh. Leslie and Mother had spent many days laboring over their new creation. They went to town and picked out cloth, cut it up and sewed it together, all the while sharing stories and laughing about private girl things. Mother often told him how nice it was to have a daughter Leslie's age; Brenda and Ellie weren't much for making dresses anymore and May Belle was more of a pain than a help.

That left Jess taking care of her and worrying if Leslie and mother were talking about him. He sat outside, munching an apple and listening to the sounds from within as Leslie was fitted for her dress. The sun was setting fast and as the shadows grew long, Jess knew he was running out of time. He would see the dress tomorrow and Leslie would ask him how it looked. Jess didn't know what he would say. He wished he weren't alone. Father was in town working and Brenda and Ellie were inside grumbling about this or that and helping to get her dress done before supper.

His only company now was May Belle.

Leaning back against an old tree, Jess took another bite of his apple as he regarded her. She was playing in the soft dirt before him, trying to get as dirty as possible before bath time. He remembered doing the same thing when he was her age. Her little green dress was covered with stains. He knew father would be home soon and that he wouldn't be pleased with him for letting her get so dirty. He wondered if he could blame someone else but decided against it. Better to let father be angry than try to lie and make it worse.

Besides, he had too much to worry about already, with Leslie and the dance coming up. Somebody cried out then, making him jump. He twisted around to look back at the house but he couldn't see anything. The shouts coming from within told him that somebody got stuck with a pin. He hoped it was Leslie and that she had gotten stuck in her behind.

"Serves you right," he grumbled.

May Belle stopped her play and looked up at him. Her dirt-covered face scrunched up in a curious frown. "Serves who right?"

He glared down at her and shook his head. "Never you mind."

She shrugged and went back to playing while Jess went back to brooding. He was just fantasizing about dunking Leslie in the pond when the sound of horses brought him to attention. He peered through the gloom.

A wagon was approaching.

May Belle was up in a second. "Papa!"

He snatched at her but she slipped away from him and ran off to greet father. Jess knew he was in trouble. May Belle wasn't allowed to run into the road, especially at dusk, when it was harder to see. Jess chased after her but he knew she wouldn't be hurt; he was more worried about himself.

If she got flattened, he would get whipped.

He caught up with her and pulled her to the side of the road, just as the wagon rolled past. Jess squinted against the dust kicked up by the passing cart and held on tight to his squirming little sister. He watched the dark form of the wagon as it rolled down the road.

It wasn't father.

Jess sighed. May Belle pulled away. He knew she was probably making faces at him in the dark, but he didn't care. Father was going to be late again and Jess knew he would have to watch May Belle the rest of the night. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way back to the tree to stand watch for father. Jess glanced back at the house. He wouldn't be allowed back in until they pried the dress off Leslie and by that time he would have to eat supper and go straight to bed. He stifled a yawn as he rubbed his eyes.

Sleep sounded good. It had been a long week.

But he knew the next day would be even longer.

He thought about visiting Valerie and her mother. It had been a week since he had seen them and he thought they might know what to do. He decided he would have to wait until after tomorrow. He picked up the book Leslie had given him, running his fingers over the worn leather cover. _The Greatest Adventure_. It was full of the kind of stories Leslie told and reading it while she was busy made him feel like she was there with him. He hadn't been able to continue reading since dusk settle and he could hardly wait for the morning so he could start again. Leslie had been right; when he read, it seemed like he was there alongside the heroes as they faced monsters in caves and dungeons.

Jess never knew reading could be so much fun.

He knew his own life wasn't so great—what with the festival and all—but the book helped keep his mind off his troubles. As he flipped through the pages, squinting in the dark, mother called him in for supper and he trudged towards the house, dragging May Belle along.

As he slipped inside, he saw that Leslie was wearing her old clothes: one of his shirts and her pants. She wore no vest and he briefly wondered what she had done with it. He also wondered where her dress was hidden. She hadn't showed it to him, "Because," she said, "I want it to be a surprise."

Jess liked her surprises but he was tired of waiting; he wanted to see her wearing the dress. He slumped down at the table and started on supper. As he watched Leslie from across the table, he smiled. She saw his grin and smiled back. They didn't talk much, just ate and smiled and after supper Jess tucked the book back under his pillow and whispered a good night to Leslie. He waited for a reply but she was already asleep.

He started on the book again the next day. Breakfast pulled him away from it and as he ate his eggs, Brenda and Ellie chatted about what they would do at the festival. Leslie mercifully didn't say much about it and when they finished breakfast, Jess was ordered to bathe and then upstairs to dress in his fancy festival clothes, the ones that itched. He hated wearing them and was grateful that he only had to don the outfit on special occasions, since mother had an argument with the priest a few years before, keeping them from attending temple services.

The festival would start with the service at the temple, though and mother said it would start there since many people used the festival as an excuse to get drunk and wouldn't be able to attend if they held the prayer service at the end of the day. Jess knew that it was that kind of candor that kept them from the temple's weekly services. He was proud of his mother for standing up to the know-it-all priest, instead of groveling like so many other supplicants. They still had to donate a few pennies when they attended the festival but Jess didn't mind; although sometimes he wished he had a little money for some of the fancy candies they sold at the fair.

As he pulled on his black wool trousers, he heard the girls getting ready below. Leslie was slipping on her dress, he knew, and he couldn't wait to see her.

He would have himself a good laugh before the tedium of Temple Service.

The voices of his sisters, both older and younger, drifted up to him as he slipped on his simple leather shoes and buttoned his best red shirt. They were just about finished from what he could hear. He was too and as he waited for them to call him down, he thought one more time about the dreaded dance. Leslie would no doubt ask him for a turn. He would refuse, saying he didn't know how. Jess supposed he could have learned, but he didn't want to lose his only viable excuse. He knew she would find a way around the one he had. He picked up the book and considered reading it.

Maybe he could forget his problems again.

"Jess," mother called, "We're ready to go!"

He sighed. It was time.

As he tossed the book on his pillow, he wondered what the heroes of the story would do. "Probably die."

Jess ran his hands through his well-combed hair and climbed down the ladder. He held the rungs tightly as his feet touched the floor. Taking a purging breath, he turned around.

That's when he saw her.

Leslie stood with her hands clasped in front of her, a look of uncertain expectation etched on her fair face. "Well, Jess… How do I look?"

Jess took in the sight of her jaw-length, wheat-colored hair, usually ruffled and untamed, now combed straight down on either side. She wore a light blue dress, the color of the sky. The simple white collar matcher her cuffs.

Many dresses tried for ostentatious excess, the common belief being that the more elaborate the dress the better it looked. Brenda and Ellie's were no exception. Brenda's deep blue dress was covered with matching lace and revealed more of her swelling chest than seemed appropriate, while Ellie's red dress was done over with ribbons and other such ornamentation.

Leslie's simple dress put them both to shame. It was glorious in its understated beauty, seeming to provide a cutting statement that she didn't need to impress anyone. That alone made her seem a girl of elegance and bearing, with more dignity than the two strutting hens could ever hope to have. He had been expecting Leslie to try to outdo his sisters. He expected to have a good laugh at how silly she looked trying to keep up with girls twice her age. Jess didn't laugh. She didn't look silly at all. She looked beautiful.

"You look nice, Leslie," he heard himself say. He blushed as she did at his unexpected compliment. Leslie grinned sheepishly. Mother beamed. Brenda and Ellie snickered behind her about their "wedding." He didn't care. Right then, everything seemed fine. He smiled at Leslie as he helped her with a nice white coat and pulled on his own brown wool coat. Mother motioned for them to head for the wagon. Jess took Leslie's hand and they walked out together to greet the dawn. It was a beautiful day for a festival.

The birds sang songs, the sun smiled and a cool breeze blew through the fields carrying the scent of un-harvested wheat. Father put down the wagon's gate and lifted May Belle up, reminding her to not let her pretty pink dress get dirty. He then lifted Jess and Leslie last and they all sat on potato sacks in the back while Brenda and Ellie squeezed up front with mother and father. Father flicked the reins and they lurched forward, Leslie, May Belle and Jess giggling at the sudden motion.

They crossed the river soon after, the oxen trudging slowly through the water as everyone tried not to get their good clothes splashed. Jess spotted a few people along the road on the opposite bank, no doubt on their way to Westwood as well. Leslie waved to a few of them, smiling as if she were in a parade. Jess waved a little at her urging and a few people even waved back.

Just then Jess saw the most exciting something he had ever seen: A group of soldiers thundering across the road, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. He rose up on his knees to get a better look but they rode by so fast he hardly had time to see them. He slumped back down and turned to ask Leslie if she had seen them. He found her laying low in the wagon with her shoulders scrunched up. She looked scared.

He leaned close to her and whispered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I'm fine." She peeked up over the wagon's side, searching for something. Jess couldn't imagine what it could be, but after a minute, she seemed to relax and sat up straight again. She brushed clean the material of her light blue dress and flashed him a bright smile. "I just slipped that's all."

He didn't believe it for a moment.

* * * * *

Jess scratched at his clothes. They were itching like ants. Temple worship was as boring as he could remember. He wished they could leave, but he knew better than to speak in the Temple. Leslie was standing beside him, seeming fascinated by the priest's long-winded speech. He figured she was good at faking it.

As he yawned, Jess glanced up at father, hoping he wouldn't get a smack. Father's creased face didn't look away from the priest and Jess was pleased to see that he looked as bored as everyone else. His eyes drooped and more than once Jess thought he had to blink to stay awake as the voice of the priest echoed around the room, thunderous and damning. He ended his speech with threats of terrible suffering for those that dared defy the gods punctuated by warnings against being led astray.

The supplicants bowed their heads and the brass collection plate was finally passed. Jess listened to the clink of loose coins being dropped in as it came near.

Leslie reached out and dropped a penny on the pile.

He stared at her in open shock. "Leslie," he whispered, "Where'd you get that?"

She shrugged. "I found it outside and I thought it might help." She frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

Jess shook his head. "I-I guess not."

With nothing else to do, he returned his attention to the boring speech. The service was nearly over; he felt a swell of anticipation. Now that they had gathered the money, it was almost time to leave. The priest declared a final warning to mind the will of the gods and everyone promised they would. Jess yawned again and as the clanging bell announced the sound for their freedom, everyone departed.

Being freed from the service, Jess felt like he was being freed from a dungeon. Everyone seemed to feel the same way, seeming to come alive as they began talking and spreading out into the town proper and as he walked beside Leslie, she smiled at him and immediately pointed towards some games tables.

Jess couldn't help but grin. Everyone in town was celebrating. Music makers started playing as people joked and laughed and danced and played at a variety of games. Jess looked about at all the fun, realizing for the first time that he had truly forgotten how much there was to be had: There were jugglers and story tellers and pretend fighters; there were tables full of food and many a man tipping up a bottle, some giving mocking praise to the gods in a false toast. He and Leslie walked amongst the crowds taking in the sights and noise. Leslie played at a few games and won a few pennies which she used to buy some treats. Jess accepted the pastry she bought and stuffed it in his mouth. She laughed and did the same. Leslie tried a test of strength but her scrawny arms were not strong enough to even lift the hammer for the attempt. Jess laughed and she smacked his shoulder, making him quickly reconsider her lack of strength. As the men around the stall laughed and stepped up to try the hammer, Jess and Leslie wandered away looking for games of skill and chance, "Which," she said, "are more suited to our strengths."

They wandered about awhile, politely pushing their way through the churning throngs. The crowds were abuzz with conversations of all kinds. Jess heard the end of a crude joke and the man who told it roar in laughter as others stood about silently glaring, not caring for his sense of humor.

The family stayed together mostly, but Brenda and Ellie wandered off to talk to the boys. Brenda fancied her old blue dress as something very fashionable, what with the way she had added ribbons to it. Leslie told him they were her idea, a way to smooth things over between them. Jess was impressed with her efforts but he knew that favors to Brenda were all too quickly forgotten; she would be mean again in no time.

Seeing her work on Brenda's blue dress, Ellie had asked for help with her red dress and Leslie had gladly obliged. Jess had higher hopes for his eldest sister, as she only seemed to go along with the bullying because Brenda thought it was funny. Although she was just as immature, for some reason Jess expected more from Ellie. Leslie helped by saying she was a fine sister and just needed a little understanding.

After a while, Jess spotted someone he didn't expect. He rushed up to her and called out her name. "Valerie!" He watched her long red hair whip about as she turned to look and when she saw who was calling, her green eyes lit up like candles.

"Jess?" Her smile faded a little. "Where's Leslie?"

Jess held his hand out to indicate the girl beside him. "Right here."

Leslie beamed. "Nice to see you again, Valerie."

Valerie stared a moment. Then she barked a laugh. "Well, by the gods, it is you!" She gestured to Leslie's dress and neatly combed hair. "You look so different!"

"Thanks." Leslie grabbed the light blue fabric of her dress and held the sides out as she dipped a curtsy and smiled up at their friend. "You look nice, too."

Valerie blushed almost as red as her hair, smiling sheepishly as she ran a hand down her violet gown. "My mother made this for me. She wanted me to tell you that she's sorry she couldn't come." She leaned close and whispered. "She's not feeling well, you know."

"I'm sorry," Leslie answered. "I hope she feels better soon."

"Me too, Leslie." Valerie nodded, "Me too…"

Jess felt a pang of sorrow for Valerie and worry for her mother. The festival wasn't a time to be sad or scared; it was a time to have fun. "I hope we get to visit soon," he offered. "It might make her feel better." Valerie nodded her appreciation and wandered away. Jess looked to Leslie and sighed. He wished he could help. Leslie's expression reflected his sentiment. He took her hand and led her through the crowded streets. He couldn't do much for the Vanderholt's but he hoped he could improve Leslie's mood. He hoped to maybe find a game stand or pastry-eating contest to watch.

He smirked at the thought of Leslie competing, and snickered at the image it conjured of Leslie all covered in pastry cream but as they passed by the old blacksmith's shop, Jess caught sight of something that took the mirth right out of him: An older boy scratching his greasy black hair and looking about for trouble. The one next to him was no less intimidating; his short-cropped orange hair and fat, freckled face made him look like a monster of nightmares.

The monster caught sight of him and pointed.

The black-haired Hoager turned to look and squared his shoulders in challenge.

Jess took Leslie's arm and walked her away. Best not to start trouble, his father would say. He knew they would tease him, since he was with a girl, but he figured they wouldn't start anything in the crowd so, without explaining, he steered Leslie toward the center of the town square, where the great platform rose above the people.

Already there was a large crowd dancing atop it and everyone surrounding the ground-level was clapping in time with the lively music. Jess slipped between the towering forms of adults, trying his best not to be noticed.

As the people dancing atop the stage tired, they descended the staircase on either side while others ran up to dance and sing. Jess looked back through the crowd to see Hoager and Fulcher standing back near the blacksmith's shop. They made fighting gestures. Jess swallowed his apprehension and looked away, glad to be safe for the moment.

As he turned back to talk to Leslie, she suddenly bolted for the stairs. Jess watched, dumbstruck, as she raced up the steps and joined the dancing crowd, swishing her skirt about and spinning among girls and boys. Many a boy took her by the waist and spun her about like a doll. She laughed the whole time. Jess recovered from his shock after a moment and laughed as well, clapping with the crowd as the drums beat and the pipers piped and Leslie jumped and spun and twirled and danced.

Leslie flashed her brightest smile and waved at him. He wanted to go up there, to be with her and to have fun, but he didn't dare. He couldn't dance and especially not in front of the entire town, so he contended himself with watching his best friend jump about and resisting the strong urge to shout to the entire crowd that the best dancer on the stage was _his_ best friend.

Jess silently wondered if that was how it felt to be proud of someone.

When Leslie looked tired, she spun away and pranced down the steps, two at a time. She found him then and rushed over, breathless. "That was so much fun!"

"You were great!" he shouted over the crowd. "I wish I could dance like you!"

She gave him a mischievous smirk. "C'mon then, Jess!"

She tugged at his arm and led him towards the stairs. He tried to stay with the crowd but she kept pulling. Jess blushed furiously, thinking he was about to be dragged up in front of everyone and made to dance when Leslie suddenly stopped. She was staring at something in the distance. Jess peered through the crowd, but couldn't see anything strange. The crowd atop the stage continued their singing, dancing and clapping. No one even noticed Leslie as she turned away from the stage, her almond-shaped eyes lowered to the ground. She walked away quickly, her hand covering the side of her face.

Jess followed her as she moved out of the crowd. "Leslie?" When she ignored him, he called out to her again. "Leslie!" Jess' blood ran cold.

She was going towards the blacksmith's shop.

He raced to catch up with her. "Leslie! Stop! No!"

She didn't turn around, just pulled up short as Hoager stepped out before her. "Well, well," Hoager sneered. "What we got here?"

Jess rushed up to Leslie and took her arm. He wanted her away from Hoager.

"Looks like Aarons found himself a new girl," came a voice from behind.

Jess didn't have to look to know it was Fulcher. They were surrounded. Hoager was leering at Leslie. He liked to talk, Jess knew, and while Hoager was thin, he was also clever and conniving. Fulcher was more muscle and usually let Hoager speak for him. They were both looking at Leslie and not in a friendly way.

"Pretty one too," Hoager added. The way he leered at Leslie made Jess sick. "You were the one dancing, weren't you?"

Leslie nodded. She looked upset, but Jess didn't think it was because of Hoager; something else was bothering her. He couldn't ask right then but made a promise to himself to find out what was bothering her later—if there was a later. Hoager's gaze slid to him, then. "You got a problem, Aarons?"

Jess didn't know what to say. Leslie spoke then and he wished she hadn't. "The only problem here is you—and your breath."

That took the smug grin right off Hoager's freckled face. He looked ready to kill. "She's got a lot of sass for a girl, Aarons," Hoager snarled. "She your new bodyguard?"

"N-no," Jess managed, but he knew he sounded weak.

Hoager was eyeing Leslie again. He grinned like a hungry dog. "Maybe she wouldn't be so mean if she danced for us."

Jess heard Fulcher chuckle behind him. He glanced back to see Fulcher stroking the steel-bladed arrowhead he always wore around his fat neck. Jess guessed he wore it because he thought it made him look dangerous. Fulcher's intense blue eyes stared out from his over-freckled face at Leslie's rear as his thick fingers rubbed the shining surface of his arrowhead. He grinned in wicked delight at the sight of her. Jess' blood heated at what they were probably thinking. He was just about to tell Hoager that she wouldn't dance for them for all the gold in the world when a new voice rang out across the alley.

"Lay off 'em, Hoager."

They all turned to see a tall girl—taller than any of them—come stalking in from the street. Her round, freckled face was set in a permanent scowl. She munched on a crispy pastry as she neared, seeming unconcerned with the presence of her rivals. Jess swallowed hard and tried not to run as Hoager squared off against this new threat. "You're running things now, Avery?" Hoager's courage sounded false and Jess knew he would disappear like a rat in a hole as soon as Janice got close. Hoager shifted his beady eyes, looking for an escape as he gestured to Jess. "What do you care what we do with these two farm rats?"

Janice flashed a wicked grin as she sucked cream off a thick finger. She pointed to Leslie. "The beanpole's got money—I seen her with it." She pointed her fat thumb over her shoulder. "Get lost, Hoager. You can play with her some other time. Right now, I got business with her and the farm-boy."

"I ain't afraid of you," Hoager mocked.

Jess could tell he was. Just then a half dozen other girls stepped out from the shadows, all of them as mean-looking as Janice—and just as big. Janice cocked an eyebrow. "You afraid of them?"

Hoager and Fulcher flinched and pulled away, mumbling that they had better things to do right then. Jess could only imagine what other trouble they would cause that day. With the boys gone, Janice sauntered forward and towered over them. She took another bite of pastry and glared down at Leslie as she chewed. "Got coin, beanpole?" Her voice was mocking with a hint of challenge. Jess hoped Leslie would ignore the taunt and just surrender her money.

To his relief, Leslie tried to move away, but Janice planted her thick arm on the shop wall, blocking her retreat. Leslie stood there, facing her. Jess watched as she glanced down and saw the world's biggest feet sticking out from the world's fanciest leather sandals.

"Nice…feet."

"You say something?"

Leslie's face came back up. "Uh, what I said was…have you ever heard the story… about the trolls, under the bridges, who collect tolls from unlucky travelers?"

Janice's scowl darkened. "You calling me a troll?"

Leslie backed away, deeper into the alley. "No, no, I was just…"

Jess grabbed Leslie's arm and whispered, "Just give her the coins you won."

"No." She frowned at him. "They're mine." She turned back to face Janice. "Why should I…?"

One look at Janice's scowl changed her mind and Leslie meekly handed over what few coins she had won. Janice snatched them from her and tossed them up in the air a few times. "Not bad, beanpole." Her glare returned as she stuffed them in her pocket. "But next time, I want more from you." She gestured to the girls that were now surrounding them. "Or my friends and I are gonna have to mess up that pretty dress—maybe even your face."

Leslie smiled a little. "You really think my dress is pretty?"

Janice ignored the comment and mashed what was left of the pastry against Jess' vest, smearing it with a horrible cream stain. "Consider it a free lunch, farmer boy!"

To his great relief, she shoved past them and, laughing with her friends, headed down the alley. Jess sighed.

"Are you okay?"

He looked over at Leslie and nodded. "How about you?" She nodded too. He was glad for that. "Well, we came away from that with only a few coins lost and a messy vest." He shrugged. "I guess we did all right."

Leslie didn't look convinced. "We should have stood up to them, Jess." She shook her head ruefully as she watched Janice's departing form blending into the crowds in the street. "We really should have stood up to them."

He wiped off as much of the "free lunch" as he could. "What are you talking about?"

She walked back to the open market. "You can't let people push you around like that, or they'll do it forever." She didn't meet his gaze as they made their way back into the crowd.

Jess didn't understand what the problem was, exactly. He had been bullied by them his whole life. That's the way things were and he figured he always would be picked on by someone. "Nobody got hurt, Leslie." He scraped off some crumbs. "And besides, I know how to avoid them—usually."

She folded her arms and glared at him. He didn't think she would be so mad over a few coins. Something occurred to him, then, something he'd forgotten. "Leslie, why did you run down there anyway?"

Leslie unfolded her arms, looking less intense. If anything, she seemed embarrassed. "Well, I uh…" She scratched her head and grinned sheepishly. "I just saw something that scared me, that's all."

He looked about for something scary. "Like what?" He licked his fingers clean of the pastry cream as she averted her gaze.

She sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Leslie, please just tell me—"

"No."

Jess blinked. Her response was so final it startled him. He never had problems getting her to talk before and she always had a good reason for not talking when she didn't feel like it. She gave no reason now, just silence. She seemed resolved. He was just about to ask her again why she would be scared when a cry came out of the crowd.

"Jess!"

He looked over to see May Belle running toward them at full speed. "Jess! Jess! Janice Avery stole my pastry! Janice Avery stole my pastry!" Her plump little face glistened with tears as she skidded to a stop before the two of them and stomped her foot. "She stole it!"

He gestured to his cream-stained vest. "I know."

May Belle folded her arms across her chest, looking for all the world like a little Leslie as she pouted. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Well, nothing." He brushed off what was left of the cream and crumbs. "She kind of… already returned it."

Leslie barked a laugh but May Belle was inconsolable. She demanded he find Janice Avery and beat her up. "You're my brother," she reminded him. "You're supposed to help!"

He leaned down and told her the truth. "I can't fight her—she's too big. But maybe Leslie will win some more coins and buy you a new pastry."

May Belle looked up expectantly at her "big sister" and sniffled. Leslie nodded and took her hand. As they walked around on to find a booth, Jess kept a lookout for bullies and noticed Leslie looking out for whatever had scared her more than Janice Avery.

* * * * *

The rest of the day was less eventful, but much more enjoyable. Leslie and Jess competed in the footrace, with Leslie winning overall, and Jess coming in right behind her. Jess was proud Leslie won, feeling no enmity at having been declared only the second best of their age-group. Other races, like the grain-sack race and the shoe-scramble, were taken by older children and Jess had to console himself with the fact that the two of them weren't well-trained for such events. The tug-of-war was a draw with no one taking a mud-bath, much to the disappointment of the gathered crowd. Jess was glad for Leslie's dress not getting ruined. May Belle received an award for growing the most over the summer and quickly devoured the apple tart prize before anyone bigger than her could take it away.

The entire festival lasted until well after dusk. The Aarons family, however, only lasted until late afternoon. May Belle was already half-asleep by the time they pulled into their yard and the rest were completely worn out from all their activities.

As father helped them down, Jess handed May Belle to him and hopped off the wagon. He gave Leslie a hand down and yawned. He had intended to visit with Valerie and her mother later, but as tired as he was, he just wanted to rest.

They all stumbled into the house and Jess went immediately to bed. As much as they'd eaten at the festival, he didn't really want any supper. Leslie had won so many tokens and shared so many candies with him that day that he thought he might be sick. She collapsed onto her blanket as he lay down on his own. She looked almost as bad as he felt. He wondered what they would do tomorrow, what with the harvest approaching, and wondered why Leslie had run into the alley.

He also wondered why she didn't want to talk about it.

After a while, Jess simply closed his eyes and wondered no more.


	9. Chapter 9

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 9**

Jess awoke the next morning to the sound of laughter. The acrid tang of woodsmoke tinged with the sweet promise of bacon drifted to him from the room below. The previous night had settled his stomach and he was already hungry for a hearty meal. He yawned and glanced to Leslie's ruffled blanket. He knew she was on the first level, probably eating without him.

He pulled off his sweaty temple clothes and tossed them aside. He stood there naked and wondered how much fun it would be to head down for breakfast without clothes. Jess laughed at the idea, remembering that Leslie had already seen him naked. He wrapped a towel around himself and headed down, wanting to bathe before he ate.

He almost lost his towel when he reached the bottom. When Leslie saw him, she gave a confused frown. She knelt before the hearth, tossing into the pan a few things he was sure he liked. Her wheat-colored hair was tousled and held a stray bit of straw almost indistinguishable from the rest of her hay colored hair. Her new dress was nowhere to be found. She wore her old clothes, vest and all. She looked like a farm-girl again. Jess smiled at her confusion.

"I'm going to take a bath," he explained and headed out the door.

The pond came into view after only a few minutes, its dark surface sparkling in warm greeting. It was quiet, except for the ducks that swam about as he slipped into the water.

As he rinsed himself down, he realized he forgot the soap and cursed himself a fool. Just then, something struck him in the head and splashed into the water. Jess plucked it up surprised to learn it was the soap.

He turned back to look and saw Leslie standing by the shore. "You forgot that, Jess." She held a steaming plate in each hand and as he rubbed his head, he asked what she was doing bringing food out to the pond.

She shrugged. "Bringing you breakfast."

He thanked her as she sat down on the grassy shore. She crossed her legs and placed her chin in her hand as Jess rolled his eyes at her amused attempt to watch him bathe. He briefly considered pulling her in with him. He forgot about that notion as his eyes drifted to his plate. There was a large amount of bacon and eggs waiting for him.

"Maybe you ought to go back inside and eat," he offered. "It might rain."

She shook her head. "I promised your mother I would make sure you ate and bathed." She hooked some blonde hair behind an ear and positioned her own plate in her lap. "You better hurry or it'll get cold."

She sounded just like mother. "Girls," he muttered and swam over to the shore. He took up a forkful of eggs and stuffed them in his mouth, sucking air to cool them as he chewed. Leslie giggled around her own mouthful and prompted him to try the bacon too. He did and found it equally delicious. Jess scrubbed himself with the cake of coarse soap and continued to eat as Leslie scraped up her eggs into a pile and finished them off.

"What did you do to make the eggs taste so good?"

She answered him around a mouthful. "I added a few things: spices from the garden, cheese, onions, peas, and some chunks of ham. I figured you'll need to eat more, if you want to keep up with me.""

"Why?" he asked around a mouthful of eggs. "Where are you going?"

"Into town," she said. "Mother asked me to pick up a few things."

He didn't think she would want to go back to town, what with whatever scared her running around, but by the smile on her face Jess could tell she was all right with the idea. He finished scrubbing quickly and dunked his head in a few times to rinse out the soap. Leslie stood then and held out a towel. He took it and dried himself while she told him all the things they had to get. Jess wondered how she could remember it all.

As Leslie handed him a bundle of clothes, he sighed and began to pull them on. She obviously didn't want to waste time heading back to the house. Jess ran his fingers through his thick, wet hair and shook away the excess water as Leslie grabbed their empty plates and led him back to the house. Mother told him to get his shoes on and, in a minute, he was ready to go. Leslie led him outside then and they raced off to town.

When they arrived at the gates, Jess hesitated. He remembered the bullies. Leslie tugged at his arm. He swallowed and gazed along the town's wall. Made of rough-hewn timber, it was the sturdiest structure he had ever seen. Now it seemed a monster about to swallow them both. The gate was just ahead and he could see the people milling about, some entering, others leaving, and all too busy to notice the two of them.

Taking Leslie's arm, he fell into pace along with a small group of people. He hoped that by staying hidden, they wouldn't have to face Hoager or Fulcher again.

As they moved beneath the gatehouse, Jess felt a deepening sense of doom. It was like walking into a dungeon or the tomb of some evil warlord. Jess wondered if they would ever make it out. As they entered the town, Jess looked about. Everything about the place seemed subdued. In spite of the various sounds of workers and such, the place was oddly quiet. Jess figured it was because the festival had ended and the harvest approached. Everyone was always serious during harvest time.

Jess saw the sales people offering their wares, a few soldiers moving about the crowd and the occasional group of children chasing chickens or each other. No one seemed as anxious or frightened as he felt. Leslie stayed close to him as they made their way along the main street and they both kept watch for the stables and blacksmith's shop.

Hoager and Fulcher were nowhere in sight.

Most of the shops had what they needed and Leslie had a sack full of things in short order. When it seemed that they had everything they needed, Leslie decided they had time to shop for a few more things. Jess nodded. He wanted to go home, but he didn't think she would leave without seeing to the bullies. He still didn't understand why she thought it so important to show them that she wasn't afraid. They walked around awhile, heading down the street on their way out of town. Suddenly a large snout flashed before him, snorting dusty air across his face and making him jump back. Jess peered up the length of the horse's white-blazed muzzle to the armored soldier resting atop the beast. The soldier turned and spat before settling his uneasy gaze upon the two of them.

He waved his gloved hand dismissively. "Out of the way, little ones."

Jess rushed to comply. Leslie had her head down and he tugged her arm, leading her away from the mounted soldier. As he watched the man ride away, Jess let out a deep sigh. It was the most exhilarating experience of his entire life, being so close to a soldier.

Then he noticed Leslie watching the man depart. Her bluish-green eyes were wide, her fair face more than a little red. As Jess looked closer, he could almost see her trembling.

Jess frowned. Leslie always seemed fearless and Jess really didn't remember seeing her afraid very often. The only times he could think of were the few times in town when…

The realization hit him like his mother's wooden spoon.

"Leslie," he whispered in sudden comprehension, "You're afraid of soldiers!"

Leslie spun to him, her almond-shaped eyes even wider. Her mouth hung agape. She could not have looked more shocked if he had struck her. Her jaw worked, looking like she was trying to say something but it wouldn't come out. Jess tried not to seem too concerned about this discovery.

He had just discovered her secret but he still had questions.

"Why… would you be scared of them, Leslie?"

She said nothing for a long time. Jess waited, listening to the sounds of people talking, laughing, and arguing mixing with the inconsistent drum of horses passing through town as she considered her answer. At last she closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid of them. I'm afraid of them for the same reason you were scared of those bullies." She hiked the burlap sack onto her shoulder and started away. "Some people are best avoided."

Jess didn't understand. He always thought of soldiers as something akin to knights of the realm; heroes protecting the people. He tried to ask her why she would be scared of people who protected them but she wouldn't answer. He scratched his head. "Leslie, I don't believe it. You're not even scared of my father and he's punished you."

Leslie gave him a worried glance. She bit her lip as she looked about, as if expecting more soldiers. Jess didn't see any and as she turned back to him, he asked one more time why she would need to fear men of the law. To his surprise, Leslie turned into a nearby alley and beckoned him to follow. Jess sighed and, convinced he would finally have the truth, obliged.

Leslie gently lowered the sack, letting it settle on the ground as she looked around at the passersby. None seemed as interested as Leslie seemed to think they would be in a couple of children. Jess folded his arms and heaved a sigh, prompting her to get on with whatever it was that she was doing. She looked around and without explanation stuffed her hand into a pocket. Jess looked about too, seeing nothing of interest, and when he turned back to her, Leslie drew something from the pocket of her trousers. Jess squinted at the object as it gleamed brightly in the noon light, winking at him like a secret promise now revealed. Leslie held it carefully in front of her as if it were a snake about to strike.

Jess loomed closer and peered into her open palm.

As he recognized the nature of the coin, he blinked in shock.

It was gold.

She dropped it into his hand. He flinched as if it would burn. Jess reasoned it might not be real gold, just an old copper coin somebody painted golden to fool people. But the weight of it and his own experience told him it was real. Jess had held real gold only once before. It was five years ago and his mother had taken him to market. Jess loved going to market at that age, looking around at all the sights. His mother stopped to buy some fruit and as he watched the road, a wealthy merchant passed by. He noticed that a coin had been dropped. Leaving the safety of his mother's side, Jess rushed to pick it up and was surprised by the heft of the little thing. He held it up to the merchant to return it and the man, thinking Jess a thief, tried to club him. His father had intervened, and while Jess came away unharmed, from then on, he knew that in the hands of the poor, gold was trouble.

Now, here he stood, not far from the site of the original incident, holding another gold coin and feeling chills run through him at wondering what trouble it would bring.

"Leslie," he gasped, "Where did you get this?"

She grinned. "I stole it."

Jess was dumbstruck. How could she have stolen a gold coin? "I-I don't believe it," he whispered, wiping a hand back through his thick brown hair.

"You'd better believe it," she whispered back. "I took it from the castle when I ran away. I knew I'd need money and, well, they had so much I didn't think they'd miss a few odd coins."

"A few?"

She nodded and shrugged. "I took more—"

"How much more?"

She scratched her blonde head and grinned sheepishly. "Just a purse."

Jess closed his eyes. His heart came into his throat. He felt dizzy. This couldn't be happening. There had to be more to it. "Leslie, don't you know what they do to thieves?" He didn't really know himself, but he reasoned that she would know and that it wasn't anything she wanted to happen to her. He looked about, now fully expecting to be nabbed at any moment as people passed by without looking their way.

"That's why I'm careful around soldiers—I don't want them to recognize me."

Jess glanced back to the street. He didn't think anyone could see them but he still felt completely exposed. "Why don't you just give it back? Maybe they would let you be if you returned what you took." The look she gave him made him realize what a naive notion it truly was. Then something else occurred to him. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Rest of what?"

He rolled his eyes. "You said you stole a purse, right?" She nodded. "Well, where's the rest of it?"

"Oh." She lowered her almond-shaped eyes. "I kind of… lost it."

"What do you mean 'lost it'? How'd you lose it?"

"Well, it was my first night out of the castle and I thought to move quickly, so I hired a man with a wagon to take me far away." She gestured with the coin. "I paid him most of my gold but…"

"He left without you."

Leslie nodded. Jess groaned. She seemed embarrassed but he couldn't feel sorry for her; she should have had more sense. "Now you can't return what was taken from you."

"That's about it."

He wiped a hand across his face. "Well, what happened after you found out he cheated you?"

"I met you." She grinned and gave his shoulder a playful shove.

Jess didn't think that was all that happened to her, but he figured she might be too embarrassed to tell him the rest of it. He returned her smile. She pushed his shoulder playfully again and as he laughed, Jess snatched up the sack. They were friends and he realized that was all that mattered. He didn't approve of her foolishness, but he figured it didn't hurt anyone and since she wasn't spending the money, the soldiers would never get suspicious. He knew better than to try to spend it either. Peasants—especially ones their age—with gold coins to spend raised too many questions. He decided they could bury the coin in the woods or give it to the Vanderholts.

Then they would be rid of it forever. Leslie would stay safe.

As they turned to leave, Leslie took the coin and slipped it into his pocket. She gave him a wink. "Just in case," she told him.

He was about to ask what she meant by that when two voices interrupted. Neither sounded pleasant.

"Nice pants, dancing girl." Hoager crunched into an apple and used it to gesture to Leslie's rear. He gave her a gruesome grin. "Love the view."

Jess felt his face burn as Leslie turned her backside away. He kept his eyes on the approaching Hoager as he whispered to her. "Leslie, get behind me."

Leslie slipped behind his back without arguing. Jess stood firm. He could hear Hoager's hollow laughter as he sauntered closer. "She still owes us a dance, Aarons."

As Leslie cried out, Jess spun around to see Fulcher wrap his fat arms about her. Jess' eyes went wide but as he took a step forward, he felt someone shove him. He hit the ground with a grunt, the wind almost blasted from him as the sack spilled its contents over his shoulder. He tried to stand, but felt a kick in his side put him back down.

"Wait your turn, Aarons." Jess looked up to see Hoager leering at Leslie. "I'm next in line."

Jess ignored Hoager's taunts as he searched for the source of his amusement. Fulcher was swinging Leslie around as she struggled, begging him to stop.

In spite of the pain in his side, Jess climbed to his feet and ran toward Fulcher. He felt a hand grab his shoulder and he spun, landing a hard punch right on Hoager's smug face. Hoager flew off his feet, landing hard on his back and as Jess smiled at the wonder of how easily he had defeated him, he heard Leslie cry out his name.

Energized by the defeat of Hoager, he twisted around, clenching his fists in anticipation of his next fight.

What he saw made him blanch.

Fulcher was fleeing the alley and in his place, lifting Leslie by the scruff of her neck was the biggest man Jess had ever seen. Jess swallowed in terror as the world fell away. He saw Leslie kicking her legs, as he held her aloft. Leslie's hands scratched frantically behind her neck as she tried to pry the man's thick fingers loose. She screamed in terror as he hoisted her up with one arm, handing her to a mounted companion, as stern-looking a woman as Jess had ever seen. She placed Leslie on the saddle in front of her, holding her tightly in place. Leslie's panicked eyes found him and just as he saw the desperate plea etched on her face it erupted into a cry that chilled his bones.

"Jess!"

He was on the big man in a second. Grasping at his bulging arm, he scratched and kicked, trying to get him to stop. The man looked down at Jess, but it wasn't a grim look he received; if anything, the man's bearded face looked almost amused.

"Away boy," the man grumbled. "Our business is none of yours."

He shook him off and as Jess fell hard on his bottom, he watched the man turn around to mount his huge black steed. Jess sprang up and grabbed at the man again.

This time the man was not amused.

"I said away, boy!"

Planting his huge hand on Jess' chest, the man shoved him back hard. The power in his simple gestured was astounding and as Jess flew through the air, he felt his back smack into something solid. His head took a worse impact. The world dimmed.

The thunder of hooves shook through him as the strangers departed and the last thing Jess heard before the darkness consumed him was the fading sound of Leslie's desperate scream.


	10. Chapter 10

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 10**

"Jess?"

The voice seemed distant. It was a grating sound, deep and somehow familiar. As Jess felt its grim timbre run through him, he shivered. The voice called out the word again. He really didn't understand its meaning but he understood the tone well enough.

The voice was scared.

"Jess!"

He felt himself being pulled toward that word, that it was somehow important. He couldn't imagine why it mattered but as he felt the fog begin to clear, the voice spoke again, gruff and deep. "Jess, wake up, son, wake up!"

Jess moaned. His head pounded. As he leaned forward, Jess felt as if he might vomit. He felt strong arms holding him and the whispered words spoken from a man he knew was his father. "Jess, son, are you all right?"

Jess' vision blurred. He blinked away the blurriness. A moment passed and the creased face of his father came clear. "Father?" Jess lay back against something hard. "My head," he whispered, "it hurts."

"Easy, Jess." Father held him tight as he spoke, his gruff words coming unusually soft. "Its okay, son, its okay. I'm here. Tell me what happened."

Jess felt the ache in his head ease. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Then he remembered.

"Leslie!" He shot forward, his father holding him back as he looked about for his friend. "Where is she?"

Father shook his head. "I don't know." He looked about. "Was she here?"

Jess looked around again. He was in the alley, the place where he had knocked down Scott Hoager. Neither he nor Fulcher were anywhere in sight but Jess wasn't relieved by his victory; there was something even more important on his mind.

As Jess scrambled to his feet, his head spun and he nearly fell over. He felt the reassuring arms of his father holding him steady and he regained his balance. Father ran a calloused hand over the back of his head. "You've got a nasty bump," he said. "You been fighting, son?"

Jess nodded. He'd won but the soldiers had taken Leslie. He turned to his father. "They took her, father," he cried, "They took Leslie!"

"Who, son?" his voice was calm as he held him steady. "Who took Leslie?"

"The soldiers," he shouted. "They took her away!"

"It's all right, son," he whispered. "Calm down, calm down, we'll find her."

Jess hardly heard him. All he could think about was that Leslie was gone.

"I know it hurts, Jess, but you've got to keep your head. I'll help you find her."

Jess hugged his father and cried against him. It couldn't be happening. But it was. He knew it was. He forced himself to stop crying and pushed himself away. He wiped his tears and stood up straight. Leslie needed him. He had to find her. He looked about and realized by the length of the shadows and the cool breeze that graced him that dusk approached. He had been unconscious since midday. Leslie had been gone for hours. He didn't even know where to start looking. There were no more tracks to follow and he was sure no one in town would help.

Jess knew they were on their own.

As father took Jess to the wagon he told him that mother was getting worried. He didn't seem angry like he usually did and Jess figured he wasn't in for a whipping this time. He didn't care. He would take ten whippings if Leslie were back with him.

The ride home was incredibly frustrating. He couldn't stop worrying about Leslie. He wanted to start searching for her right away, but Westwood closed its gates after dusk and no one could be tracked in the darkness. They had no choice but to return home and wait for morning. Jess stirred at his food, eating only because he had missed midday meal and later, as Jess lay on his pallet, he thought about losing her. He wondered if he could have done something different. He wondered why they would take her and about all the things she told him. Something occurred to him then. He reached into his pocket and felt the smooth metal of the object Leslie had given him. It was still there.

Jess pulled out the coin.

It was much heavier than he remembered and as he stared at it, the moonlight reflecting off its shiny surface, Jess realized with cold trepidation that it was what they wanted. They had taken Leslie for it and she didn't even have it. Jess knew the single gold coin resting in his palm was worth over forty silver pieces. That was more money than Jess had ever dreamed of having and while he knew that his whole family probably didn't made that much in a year, it all seemed trivial to him now.

Jess couldn't believe the size of the coin. It was so small. Jess wiped at the tears that stung his eyes. He would gladly give the coin back if it would spare his friend, but he knew it was but a feeble daydream. They would never accept the exchange, preferring to hang thieves rather than bargain with them.

His friend would die over a worthless piece of metal.

And it was all his fault.

Tucking away the coin, Jess turned towards the window and thought about Leslie. As he peered into the darkness, he spoke her name in a lonely whisper.

"Leslie… where are you?"

* * * * *

Leslie sighed. There was no escape for her, not this time. She thought she should cry. She had cried all night and most of the previous day and she didn't feel that she had any tears left to shed. She wiped at her dry eyes regardless. Tears wouldn't save her anyway.

As the woodsmoke drifted past, stinging her dry eyes, she thought of everything she had lost: Her friend, her freedom, her beautiful new life. Jess was gone. She would never see him again. She was now on her way back to the castle. She hoped the Duke wouldn't recognize her. She had cut her hair short for that very reason. But it hadn't kept the two from finding her. She still couldn't believe she had been caught. She had been so clever, so careful, and so cunning. Leslie knew she was a smart girl—people often said so—but it seemed that she just wasn't smart enough. She would never be free again. She would never have a friend again. Leslie didn't know what was worst.

Jess, she decided at last. Losing Jess; nothing could be worse than that.

The snap of the fire brought her out of her private thoughts. She could hear the distant call of various birds and the occasional howl of a lonely wolf as she gazed into the predawn gloom. The night was warm and although she wasn't cold, she was tired, sore and filthy and the presence of the bounty hunters made her feel unnerved.

The camp was a secure place, situated in an open field near a small wood. The forest provided for their firewood and small game and despite being too heartbroken to eat anything, Leslie remembered fondly the rabbit stew they had prepared for themselves.

Leslie tried not eating, to starve herself in protest, but her captors took a dim view of her declaration and had stuffed bits of biscuits and dried strips of meat down her throat to show her that they meant to keep her alive for the journey. In a way, their concern made sense; they would receive no bounty if she perished on the journey back to the castle.

Finding their feeding methods unsavory, Leslie promised herself and her new masters that she would partake of breakfast this morning. She knew it was the right decision.

She would need her strength for the road ahead.

Leslie eyed the tents of her captors. The woman made Leslie sleep in her tent with her, to keep an eye on her. Leslie appreciated not being left out in the rain, and suspected, that the woman intended her not to catch an illness. Whether to keep her prize alive and well, or to ease her pain out of a sense of kindness, Leslie wasn't sure; she was simply glad for the tent. As she sat, hunched before the low fire, her eyes slid to the other tent. The one sleeping would soon awaken. The woman, however, wouldn't take her eyes off her, not even for a minute. Leslie rarely had problems making friends with people but in spite of her attempts to make friends with this woman, she still found no connection with her. It was only because the man had spoken her name that Leslie even knew to call her Vasha. Knowing Vasha's name didn't help matters; Leslie had tested that one and failed.

Carefully, she glanced to the horses as they grazed on the soft grasses nearby. They were tethered to an old tree branch and Leslie gave serious thought to stealing one or setting them both loose to create a distraction so she could escape. As she rubbed her shoulder against her dirty cheek, she banished the thoughts. They had ridden for hours when the setting sun and horse's exhaustion finally forced them to stop. Her pursuers had hunted her for half the day before capturing her in Westwood, and although they rode hard the other half to get her back to the castle, they were still days from their destination.

If not for the length of the journey, Leslie was certain that they would already be there. Of course, Leslie's added weight had slowed them considerably but they were still a good six and a half miles from the Aaron's family farm and Westwood.

With her captors setting up camp and darkness descending, Leslie thought she could escape back to the Aarons' farm by sheer speed and determination, taking off as soon as their backs were turned. She was wrong. Vasha was a fit woman, clearly evidenced now by the sleeves shirt she wore. The green garment exposed her tanned, muscular arms, well-toned and a match for her long legs.

In spite of being the fastest runner in all of Westwood, Vasha was quicker and showed Leslie the error of her foolish notion with the aid of a willow switch. Leslie had played with willow switches before, using them as swords in her mock battles with Jess, and she knew from experience how they could be used for punishment. When Vasha was through, Leslie wailed for a long time but her cries for mercy and contrite promises of obedience meant nothing to Vasha and afterward, as Leslie bawled in agony, Vasha sat her down on an old log and promised that she would receive another whipping if she tried anything else. It was then that Leslie realized just how foolish it was to waste her time.

She had no way back to her old life and there was no way of knowing if Jess would even want her back. She cried even harder for the hurt she felt in her heart. As Vasha pulled out a pair of leather thongs and began tying her hands and feet, she gave Leslie a stern warning about her behavior. Leslie nodded her compliance. She wouldn't try to escape again; there was no point.

Now as she watched her captor from across the fire, Leslie rubbed her aching rear. She felt as if her bottom had been held to the flame. It was almost dawn, but her rump still throbbed, making sitting difficult and riding, which she knew was coming, unbearable.

In spite of the pain, she managed to give her captor a warm smile.

The smile was not returned.

As she went back to her private thoughts, Leslie subtly twisted her arms, trying with all her might to break the leather thongs that bound her wrists. She winced as they dug into her already tender flesh. She gave a frustrated sigh and finally surrendered lest she make her arms bleed. She noticed Vasha giving her a curious frown.

"I have an itch," Leslie lied.

The woman rose to her feet. "Where?" Her tone was as cold and impersonal as ever.

"On my nose." She crinkled her face to emphasize the point. Vasha rolled her eyes and came over to scratch it for her. Leslie breathed a sigh when she finished, glad to have avoided any further punishment.

As Vasha walked back to her place opposite the campfire, she snapped a few dry branches and fed them into the flames. They burned brightly and as the fire rose with the sweet scent of balsam, Leslie could feel her stomach grumble. She would be fed again soon, she knew. She hated being fed. It made her feel helpless.

But then, she supposed she was.

Vasha took a stick from the fire, sliding off a few strips of bacon into a wooden bowl. Leslie listened to their sweet sizzle, her mouth already beginning to water. In spite of their feeding method, she still looked forward to having a bellyful of warm food.

A rustle called their attention to the occupied tent and the flap opened a moment later. Bursk stepped out, stretching and giving a great yawn, his demeanor putting Leslie in mind of nothing so much as a great bear coming out of hibernation after a long winter. His barrel chest and massive arms made him seem all the more animal like, but Leslie knew he was a man of good humor, always trying to make Vasha laugh. More often her response was a thrown sack which he would then dodge while laughing at his ability to provoke her. Leslie knew that things weren't as they seemed, and that when Bursk turned away, Vasha allowed a small smile to grace her lips. Leslie never told Bursk about the small smile, not wanting to give Vasha reason to whip her again but she was at least glad someone could bring some cheer to the serious woman. Bursk seemed a brother to her, but Leslie thought perhaps they were married instead. She was afraid to ask. The sight of Bursk being awake though, reminded Leslie that it would be time to leave soon.

He scratched his thick black stubble and ambled over to the fire, squatting down next to Vasha. Leslie squirmed as his dark eyes fell on her.

"She give you any trouble?"

"No," Vasha said. "It was a quiet night."

Leslie wanted to thank the woman for her consideration. She didn't think it was for her, though; Vasha didn't want to give the man an excuse to challenge her authority. Leslie found the woman unreasonable at times, but she much preferred her to Bursk.

Bursk yawned so big Leslie could see all his teeth. She felt as if she were looking into the maw of a great bear again. "I'm going to wash up," Bursk said. "Keep her tied when you feed her," he added, pointing to Leslie, "Cause if she gets away, we get no gold."

Vasha nodded while keeping her eyes on Leslie the whole time. The smell of bacon had filled the morning air. Vasha slid strips into a steaming bowl of beans and stood.

Leslie swallowed hard as she watched her approach.

It was time to be fed.

Leslie consoled herself with the fact that she at least wouldn't be hungry anymore.

She only hoped Jess was so well fed.

* * * * *

Jess' stomach growled. He was starving but there was nothing he could do about it. As he wiped the sweat off his brow, he stifled a yawn. He had gone home that night sick with worry and hardly gotten any sleep because of it. When he did sleep his dreams were haunted by visions of his best friend's torment and the grim look of her captors.

He often awoke in a cold sweat, calling her name and didn't dare allow himself to fall back to sleep.

They had set out at dawn to find her. Jess wanted to ask everyone they saw where she had been taken but father calmed him by suggesting they visit the Administrator's manor house. The manor stood on a hill on the opposite side of town, near the temple. It was the biggest building in town, aside from the temple, and served as the home of the Administrator's family. The business of the town was done there, from criminal trials to land disputes, to trade agreements. Jess' family didn't have business there often, but when there was need, Jess mercifully wasn't brought with them.

It was different this time. He had to go into the manor house himself and see the Administrator in person. Jess really didn't fancy the idea of going anywhere near the imposing structure, but he knew they had no choice; if Leslie was still in town, they would either have her or know where she was being held.

Now, as he stood within the great house, feeling the cool surface of the gold coin as he fingered it inside his pocket, his worry subsided. He had brought the gold and would present it to the Administrator, then bargain for Leslie's freedom.

Jess kept his hand on it at all times. He couldn't afford to lose it; it was his only hope.

As they waited in line, Jess looked around, absently scanning the throng. There were people standing around, like him, some gathered in small groups, some staring silently at nothing, others engaged in hushed conversation. The press of people added to the heat. Everyone looked tired or dirty and many looked bored, as if they had something better to do. Most of the people were adults, some with small children—none Leslie's age. There were even a few elderly people and some youngsters who seemed to be halfway to adulthood. Jess wondered who they had lost to give them cause to come to this awful place.

He also noticed the small groups of soldiers standing around. They looked as big as the ones who had taken Leslie and just as mean. None were the ones he had seen and their clothes looked different, cleaner. Their faces were just as grim though and the way they watched people made him think they were used to dealing with trouble. As they made their way through the sparse crowds, Jess noticed that many of the people were standing in a line leading up to an old wooden desk at the other side of the room. Through quiet tones, he was able to determine the identity of the person everyone was there to meet. No name was given directly; people seemed to refer to him only as "the administrator."

The name sounded sinister to him and conjured up images of a terrifying man in night- black robes with a scowl that could bend iron. Jess worked to steady himself; if that were true, then he would just have to be made of steel. He had to save Leslie.

Between gaps in the line, he could see a woman of his mother's age and thin build sitting behind the old desk. The title of administrator didn't seem to fit with the image of the kind-looking woman as she issued orders and gently directed the staff that rushed about her. Jess assumed she must be in charge of the place, judging by the way everyone seemed to defer to her direction.

As they drew closer, Jess looked around for any sign of Leslie. He kept his eyes forward the closer they came, knowing he would have his chance soon. The administrator woman didn't notice him yet and as they moved along, the press of people keeping them packed in place, Jess caught sight of several errand boys running things to her from the rooms beyond the desk. Jess was surprised to see that there were boys his own age, some a little older, some younger, taking stacks of papers to and fro and trying desperately not to drop them as they staggered from room to room.

Jess recognized the boys as her slaves.

He felt his stomach tighten at the thought of being snatched up by the guards and taken into one of those mysterious back rooms, being made to wear one of those silly-looking servant outfits and rushing stacks of papers back and forth to his new mistress till he dropped dead from exhaustion. He knew that all it would take was for the administrator to point her finger at him and say "that one" and the guards would pounce on him and haul him away.

His father's presence was unusually comforting. Jess knew nothing bad could happen to him as long as his father was there. Something bad had happened to Leslie, though, something awful. He didn't know what it was, but he was about to find out.

As they approached the front of the line, Jess trembled; he knew he couldn't do this without Leslie. He also knew he had to try or his friend was doomed.

Jess watched with nervous anticipation as the last couple in front of him finally left. They thanked the administrator before being led away by one of the boys. Jess couldn't fathom why anyone would thank the ruler of such a terrifying place, but the young couple smiled as they were led away. Jess suspected they were happy to be leaving and realized it was probably best to show courtesy to the powerful woman behind the desk, lest they displease her and end up as slaves.

Still, it was hard to be brave in the face of such a challenge.

Leslie had taught him to be brave. How he wished Leslie was there with him now.

The administrator scribbled something down in her book and looked up as he finally stepped forward. He held his breath as the powerful-looking woman stared into his eyes.

She waited a moment, as if considering what to do with him.

"Name?" she absently asked.

Jess blinked. Her voice was not at all harsh, as he had expected, but it still carried a clear ring of authority that made him fidget. Jess felt his father prod him from behind. He suddenly realized what she meant. "L-Leslie," Jess stuttered. He tried to remember the name Leslie used before she took the name Aarons. It came to him then. "Leslie Wilkins."

The woman looked him over and smirked. "You don't look like a 'Leslie,' young man."

A moment passed before he could respond. "Ma'am…?" He didn't understand.

She pointed her wooden-handled pen at him. "You're name is Leslie, then, little boy?"

The woman's smirk made his face heat. He frowned. His gaze darted to the large-armed guards to each side of the woman behind the desk. He shifted his weight as their stern gazes suddenly fell upon him. The sound of whispering behind him reminded Jess that he was at the head of a long line. Slave-boys continued adding stacks of papers and ink wells to the desk before rushing away, Jess stood still as he watched them go.

After a moment, he heard the woman calling him to attention.

"Your name is Leslie, then, young man?"

Jess shifted his weight again and tried not to look at the woman. "N-no ma'am; Leslie's my friend." He gestured to one of the guards. "She was taken by soldiers."

The woman looked over her shoulder. Jess could barely see the grim-looking soldier shake his head dismissively. The woman looked back to Jess and began thumbing through her ledger. She flipped through it and scanned each page with her finger. "Wilkins," she muttered, as she went page by page. "Wilkins…" After a time, she looked up and folded her hands atop the book. "No one named Leslie or Wilkins was brought to me, young man." Her frown deepened then and the look she had made Jess take an involuntary step backward. "And we take a very dim view of liars."

Jess swallowed hard. He felt his anger rising at being called a liar, but the feeling was engulfed in his fear of this woman. He knew he was headed for the slave cages. Images of what they do to liar-slaves danced through his mind, making him sweat.

A stern voice from behind started him out of his fearful daydream; he had forgotten his father was with him. "And I take a dim view of people calling my son a liar."

The sound of his father's deep, grating voice was surprisingly comforting; like the sight of an old foe suddenly come to his rescue. Jess never thought he would be so glad to hear such a sound. The woman looked up at his father and back to him. "Let's start over." She went back to her ledger. "Name," she asked.

"Lesl—"

"_Your_ name," she clarified.

"I-I'm Jess, Ma'am—Jess Aarons."

As the administrator scribbled something in her book, Jess repeated his answer.

"Leslie," he said. "My friend's name is Leslie Wilkins."

"Yes," the woman muttered, "I heard you." She sighed deeply and flipped through the ledger book again. She stopped a moment and fixed her brown eyes on him. "You say soldiers took your friend?" Jess nodded. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday afternoon," he replied, relieved that she seemed to believe him.

The woman flipped through the ledger again, scanning each page with her finger. She shook her head. "No one was brought in to me with that name."

Jess felt his hopes sink but it suddenly dawned on him that there was something he had forgotten. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin. He placed the gold on the desk before the ledger. "My friend's a thief," he explained. The woman showed no reaction to his confession. "She stole this coin and a lot more." The woman raised her eyebrows at that admission, but she seemed unimpressed by the gold.

Jess felt his father's powerful hand grip his shoulder. He tried to resist his father's pull, wanting to keep an eye on the gold, but found himself spun about to face him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Father seemed more hurt than angry and his weathered face held a tenderness Jess had rarely seen directed at him. "I-I just found out yesterday, father." His eyes found the floor. "I-I was afraid to tell you."

Jess still didn't meet his father's gaze. The administrator's voice turned him around. "Thief or not, there is no one named Leslie or Wilkins listed in my ledger, young man."

Jess turned a hot glare on her. His heart pounded. They had come all this way to save her and now he was being told there was no Leslie to save. His fists tightened at his sides as he tried to remain calm. It wasn't easy. "You're wrong," he whispered. "Leslie's my friend. Soldiers took her away."

She seemed to consider a moment, and then she snapped her fingers. One of the slave-boys immediately rushed up to the side of her desk. "Michael, please bring me the reports of yesterday's activities, the ones from the gate guards."

Michael bowed and rushed off, the administrator returned her attention to Jess. "Where did she steal the coin?"

The administrator's question threw him. He thought a moment. "The castle."

"Castle?" the woman asked. "What castle?"

"The castle, where she used to work."

Father grunted. Jess ignored the gruff sound; he knew he still had a lot of explaining to do and it would probably be followed by a whipping. But he didn't care. He just wanted Leslie back. The administrator plucked up the coin, testing the weight. It seemed as if she were weighing the truth of his words as well. Michael returned with a small stack of papers and set them on the desk. He bowed again before rushing off. The administrator set down the coin and pulled the papers in front of her. As she leafed through them, Jess kept his eyes on the coin; he didn't want to lose it. As the woman searched the documents, she paused on one and set the others aside. "Yes. It seems that the guards at the gate stopped a pair of travelers as they attempted to leave the main gate." She seemed to be talking to herself as her eyes scanned the parchment. "They had a girl with them, no name given but she seemed about your age." Jess heart leapt as she continued to read the report. "She was trying to escape them, yelling something about being kidnapped. The guards checked their papers—" She stopped suddenly, her face tight with concern. "Oh. Oh, I see..."

"What?" Jess couldn't stand the suspense. "What is it?"

"It seems the two at the gate had permission from the Duke himself to remove her from town." She shook her head and muttered to herself. "No wonder they didn't bring her to me." Folding her arms over the papers she leaned towards him. "If she stole from the Duke then it's out of my hands. I'm sorry," she said simply. "Your friend is gone."

Jess stood stunned. He couldn't accept her words, her explanation. Leslie couldn't be gone. She just couldn't. He fought to hold back the tears as they struggled to creep out.

"But we could go and get her…" His words were forced, a desperate plea against her judgment. "I-If we talk to the Duke, then maybe we could give his money back and he would let her go?"

The woman stared at the coin on her desk. She seemed to be considering the argument. "Well, young man, it's a long way—"

"How long?" Jess asked leaning forward with the sense of desperate hope rekindled.

The woman pointed. "The Duke's castle is in Millsburg, a large city about fifty miles south of here—a few days ride." Jess listened carefully, lest he miss a precious detail. "If you start now and follow the river, you should be able to make it there without much trouble." She slid the coin across the table. "I've heard that Duke William is a kind man, but I don't know that he would take kindly to your friend's thievery. He may not be happy to see you."

Jess plucked up the coin and stuffed it back into his pocket. He felt tears welling at the unexpected hope but his father's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him from crying. "Its okay, son," he whispered, "We'll get her back."

Jess stared up at his father in disbelief. Until now he had always assumed his father resented Leslie's presence; now he was telling him not to give up and promising to help him find her. Father looked to the administrator. "Thank you." He reached into his pocket for a coin of his own. It was copper, of course. "For your help," he told her, passing it across the table.

She handed it back, shaking her head. "You'll need it more than I."

The administrator gestured and one of the servant boys led them down a hall and out a side door. Jess thanked her and as they headed out he glanced back at all the people still waiting in line and wondered how the woman could ever finish all her work in a single day. He often wondered how he could finish all his chores in a day, but there seemed to be no end in sight for the poor administrator. Jess felt a pang of sorrow for her; he had believed she was the Mistress of this place, but when he looked back at her now, sitting behind her desk, he saw only a helpless prisoner.

The thought conjured in him an unexpected image of Leslie. She was a prisoner too.

Jess heaved a despondent sigh. The day had been very confusing. He had entered intent on finding Leslie, only to have his hopes dashed and raised in quick succession by a woman he had once considered the supreme authority, which he now saw only as a slave to her duty. Jess sighed again at the silliness of the world.

His thoughts returned to Leslie; he still hadn't found her. He had come with hope of having her returned but now he had learned that she was farther away than he would have ever believed.

And he still wasn't entirely sure she was safe.

For all he knew, she could be in a dungeon somewhere, being tortured or beaten and wondering why he wasn't coming to save her.

They had to leave right away.

As soon as they reached home, Jess rushed into the house. He ignored his mother's insistent questions and snatched up the old sack Leslie had brought the first day they met. He stuffed some apples and pears into it and even added some vegetables.

As father walked in, Jess quickly positioned the ladder and scrambled up. His clothes were near his pallet and he found the book resting on his pillow. He picked them up and stuffed them into the sack. He wasn't sure why, but he thought he might need the book. He heard his father's voice telling mother what happened at the manor house. She said something he couldn't make out; it sounded like a question but he didn't give it any thought. He guessed she had asked where they were going now. He didn't lose time listening for father's reply, simply started for the ladder again.

When he climbed down, father looked to him and asked if he was ready to go. He slung the sack over his shoulder and nodded. Mother came over to him and handed him a package. Jess took it and gave her a questioning look.

"It's for Leslie," she said. "She might need something nice to wear."

Jess understood. Mother had given him the dress they had made, the pretty blue one she had worn to the festival. He clutched the package to his chest and hugged his mother gratefully, the tears threatening to come again.

Father's voice called to him and Jess flew out the door. They were on the road in minutes.

Jess had always wanted to travel, but he never thought he would be going to save a friend. As the wagon bounced down the road, he slipped his fingers into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of the coin. He would give it back to the Duke and hope the man would accept it in exchange for Leslie. He hoped it was enough. He really didn't think the angry Duke would value Leslie more than the price of a single gold coin, but Jess valued her more than all the gold in the world.

They stopped by their neighbors, the Perkins and after explaining their recent troubles, exchanged their oxen-drawn wagon for the Perkins' horse-drawn wagon. Jess knew that with the large draft horses pulling them, they would make better time.

Their first day of travel was bright as the wind blew through the trees, cooling Jess and his father, they made their way south alongside the Dundry river. Jess watched the road ahead, telling himself they would reach the castle and he would save Leslie. He tried not to consider all the terrible things they might do to her in the meantime.

Against his will, his mind slipped back to all the things Leslie told him about her time there, about how she had no friends.

Jess had been her only friend. She needed him now as much as he had ever needed her. He wouldn't let her down. There were other people out on the road, travelers, soldiers and even some vagrants but Jess hardly noticed them as they rolled along. His thoughts were bent forward, always to the horizon and while he hoped they would reach the distant city of Millsburg before sunset, he knew in his heart they wouldn't.

The daylight was fading and Jess knew they would have to stop for the night.

Jess didn't know about nobles but he didn't want to trust Leslie's life to their charity. The best chance they had was to save her from the soldiers before they reached the Duke.

But Jess also knew that they would have to catch them first.

"Dear Gods," he whispered into the gathering darkness, "please, slow them down."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I would like to point out that while guessing about the story is NOT forbidden by any law on Fanfiction, I find it distasteful to leave your guesses in plain view of others. Please limit them to private messages. I say this to remind, not to reprimand. I enjoy hearing what you believe will happen, but it might ruin the surprises for others if you guess correctly or mislead them if you are not.

I would also like to point out that I have posted pics of some of the characters on my Livejournal account titled: _Terabithian Dreams _under the name _mark35950, _for those of you who are interested.

Please feel free to look in on them at any time.

* * *

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 11**

As their horse plodded through the crowd, Leslie took in the sights of the grand city. Not much had changed to her view. The smells, the sounds, the activity all mixed together into a jumble of wonder, excitement and confusion. It had been a long time since she had been around so many people. She wished she could enjoy it. The wind blew her hair across her face for the third time that day and Leslie again lamented having her hands bound to the pommel of her captor's horse. She was at least grateful that she was not slung across its rump like a sack of grain; she couldn't bear everyone gawking at her if she were returned in such a position. Leslie shook her hair back and sighed. She still didn't appreciate being tied up and carried through the streets like some errant child who needed to be taught to behave.

In spite of her simple clothes and shortened hair, she was certain everyone would recognize her, just as Bursk and Vasha had. No one looked her way but her ears burned as though she could hear the excited whispers about "the lost one's return."

As the sounds of the city closed in around her, she lowered her head in shame.

People stepped casually aside as they moved slowly through the crowded thoroughfare. Leslie forced herself to look up. Looming ahead, at the far end of the city was the object of her dread: The Duke's castle. It had been almost two months since she had last seen either the Duke or his home, two months since she had run away from both.

He would be waiting for her.

She swallowed at the thought of what he might say. She glanced over at Bursk. He was as fierce a man as she had ever encountered and she would still rather face him than the Duke. As she continued to glare at the bounty hunter, her eyes examined the details of his weathered face. She studied the man's dark, deep-set eyes. Leslie hated the man. He's the one who had taken her from her home, from her new family. As much as she liked his friendly smile, she couldn't forgive him his unfriendly actions. Losing the Aarons was something that would forever mar her. She didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. For that she would always hate him. She hated Vasha almost as much. In spite of the basic understanding that had grown between her and the woman, Leslie still felt the pain of being stolen from Jess. She missed him terribly. It seemed that every day when the wind blew strong was another empty road, another desolate song, another meaningless story. Jess had given her life purpose.

Without him, she was lost.

Leslie at last resigned herself to taking in the sights. The road expanded and the houses grew gradually more elaborate as they approached the castle. The once narrow street spread out to give the rich ample room to maneuver their carriages. Trees lined the wide thoroughfare where strolled polite folk in exquisite dress and fine colorful coats. Leslie stared openly at them. It had been so long since she had seen such people that she was momentarily shocked by the quality of their garments. She had forgotten that clothes such as theirs existed. The town of Westwood had its share of wealthy people, but they couldn't even imagine what it was to wear such clothes. Leslie glanced down at her own filthy attire. Seated as she was before the stern Vasha, she no doubt seemed a beggar girl, a criminal the bounty hunters were bringing to justice. Most people didn't look their way twice but a few peered towards them, as if they recognized something amiss. Leslie lowered her head, letting her hair hide the sides of her face in shadow. A glare from Vasha turned most away. No one stopped them or asked what such filthy folk were about in this part of the city. Soldiers and bounty hunters were a common enough sight. Leslie had seen enough of them come and go in her ten years. She never expected to be brought in by them herself. The rich folk strolled along after a moment; they had better things to do then watch the day to day procession. Leslie returned her gaze to the grand buildings.

The wealthy merchants and well-to-do inn-keepers kept their homes close to the Duke's castle as being close to the castle was considered both wise and respectable. The castle was more than simply a fortification; it was a center of trade, law and government.

To Leslie, it was nothing more than a prison.

She tried to distract herself with the sounds of the streets. The hawkers called out, the buyers argued price and the sounds of wagons echoed through the city as they made their final approach toward their destination. Neither she nor her captors had anything to say; Vasha rarely spoke and Bursk was too intent on collecting his payment to be distracted by the commotion. Leslie often heard him lament the loss of a bounty when he was but a breath away from collecting his reward and she knew that he would be more careful than ever now that they were so close.

The white stone of the castle grew closer and Leslie swallowed hard at the thought of her bleak future. There would be no escape for her now.

She was doomed.

She shook away thoughts of her dismal future, choosing instead to fill her mind with thoughts of her past. An image of Jess came instantly to her mind. His mop of dark hair and delightfully freckled face sprang obediently to the forefront of her memory. Leslie smiled in spite of herself. Jess was the most amazing boy she had ever known. He had a grin that made her feel like someone special, like she was more than property, kept for show. She would give anything to see his boyish smile again. It broke her heart to know she never would. As the songbirds began their morning chorus, Leslie allowed her mind to drift back to their first meeting.

It happened more than a month ago.

Leslie had found a place to hide and was contented there for a time; she hunted for berries, nuts and apples during the day and slept under the protection of the trees, with the stars as her blanket in the night. She felt safe and didn't really think she needed anyone else. Then one morning, she heard him fighting. She slipped up close behind the trees, quiet as could be. He didn't notice her, hiding amongst the bramble, but she noticed him. She watched him for days, that brown-haired boy, as he fought and yelled and triumphed over invisible foes. He would come out every day at dawn, before the sun truly filled the sky, and there, amongst the oaks and evergreens, he would practice with his willow-switch sword. Leslie fancied the idea and took to making one of her own. When she was alone, she practiced with it as much as he. As much fun as it was to play, she loved even more to watch him train, fight and holler, always calling himself Jess Aarons the Mighty.

Leslie introduced herself—against her better judgment; she had run away for a reason. For the first time in her life, she was free and she didn't want to lose that freedom. But in the end she decided it was worth the risk of being found, if she could somehow get to know the special boy. One morning, while waiting for the sounds of battle, she caught sight of him entering the forest. It was rare that she would see him before hearing his battle cries and she argued for a long time with herself over going to him. She would lose her sanctuary forever if he knew she existed. But if she kept quiet, maybe he would go away.

Then again, if he never came back, she might never know him. She finally decided that he would find her eventually and chose to introduce herself.

She waited until the perfect moment to surprise him. Leslie took him down in a moment. He rose to fight her and lost. He kept at it and Leslie whacked him across the behind as he came at her. They danced for an hour through the dappled sunlight before the boy finally decided he had suffered enough. He then took off for what Leslie assumed was his home and it only took her a moment before she decided to follow.

What she found was something greater than her life in the woods.

She had found a family.

Leslie had always felt safe with the Aarons. They accepted her without much resentment, never bothering her about her origins and for a brief time in her young life, Leslie got to be a friend, confidant, teacher, dancer, fisher, worker and sister all at once. Of course the work was hard, but she felt good to be doing something with her hands, making a difference and being useful. She even accepted the punishment Mr. Aarons had administered for being late for supper. As much as it hurt, she knew he did it because he cared. In the end, she became closer to the whole Aarons family than she had ever been to people at the castle.

Best of all, she got to know "Jess Aarons the Mighty."

She almost laughed at remembering how brave he was when he punched Scott Hoager and tried to save her from the fat, hungry Fulcher-Monster. As the beast seized her she cried out in fright. The Fulcher's breath was thick with stale bread and moldy cheese and his heavy arms pinned her tight against him as he span her about—a captured damsel for Jess to rescue.

His first blow had taken down Hoager and made Fulcher let her go in a big hurry.

Leslie grinned at the memory.

Jess Aarons the Mighty, indeed.

He was like no other boy she had ever known. He was kind and gentle of spirit, possessed of a quality she found remarkably charming. He lacked any proper manners of course, but he wasn't vulgar as boys could be; she never found him talking about scabs or things he pulled from his nose. Jess was better than all that and although he wasn't a true gentleman in the sense of training, there was a certain rough quality to Jess that made him seem like more than he appeared. She was certain he could be somebody special if given the chance. Leslie sighed. He would never get that chance. She knew how it felt to be capable of something and told you didn't belong at the task. She would soon be back in that very life, trapped by what she knew was her unchangeable destiny. Jess would never even know what became of her. The thought of his misery brought forth a new kind of pain and Leslie felt a stray tear as it slipped down her cheek.

As she rubbed it away with her shoulder, she smiled.

It was the last tear she had and she had shed it for Jess.

* * * * *

Jess opened his eyes. His eyes took in the rough wood below him and as he bounced in place, he looked about, squinting at the brightness overhead. He didn't know how long he had slept but judging by the sun's position, he guessed it was close to mid-morning. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Father glanced back at him but said nothing. As he scratched his head, Jess tried to recall the events of the previous night. They had made camp in an open field, near a wood. Jess laid out the bed rolls and helped dig a fire pit which father soon filled with stray bits of straw and dry wood.

They sat together, then, eating dried biscuits and the simple fruit Jess had brought.

As he gazed into the wavering flames, Jess listened to the call of the night birds and chirps of crickets. His thoughts drifted to Leslie, as they always did. He wondered if she was all right, if she was safe. Father said nothing and Jess thought to ask him something he had been wondering for a long time.

"You don't like her, do you?"

Father looked to him with a questioning frown.

"Leslie," Jess explained. "You don't like her."

Father took this in as he returned his attention to their small campfire. He poked at it with a long willow switch, sending embers wafting into the night like little messengers of light. Jess wished they would tell Leslie he was coming. Father regarded him somewhat somberly and Jess watched the firelight reflect in his hazel eyes as he answered.

"She works hard."

He was glad father had admitted that much. "But do you like her?"

Father met his gaze. "I don't dislike her."

Jess nodded. He didn't expect anything more, but then father surprised him.

"Jess, I have three daughters and not one works as hard as she does. She gets in more trouble than the others, speaking when she shouldn't and getting into things she shouldn't… but I think she's a good little girl." He stirred the fire a little and smirked. "She's a handful sometimes, but after a spanking, she's not so bad."

Thoughts of punishment brought forth a question he had been keeping since they learned of Leslie's destination. "Father, what do you think the Duke will do to her?"

He watched the firelight reflecting off his father's weathered features as he answered. "I don't know, Jess. I never met any nobles but from what I understand of laws, nobody takes kindly to thieves." He poked at the fire, sending bright orange sparks swirling up into the night. "Some get their finger cut off, or their whole hand if they stole something really important." Jess felt his throat tighten at the thought of these things being done to his best friend. The thought of her terror made his stomach cramp as father continued. "There are also public lashings or even hangings for the worst offenders..." As father looked over at him, he seemed to realize what he meant. He cleared his throat. "But I don't think would be too hard on her."

"Are-are you sure?"

"I don't know everything about nobles but I'm pretty sure they won't give her anything worse than I ever did."

Jess blushed at the memory of Leslie's worst punishment. They were in a fight with Brenda and Ellie, a spoiled food-fight, throwing rotten tomatoes at each other. Leslie grabbed a big juicy one and let fly, just as father walked in on them. The over-ripe, half-rotten thing caught father right in the face, splattering across his stern features. As the slimy red juice dripped off his weathered face, he stood rooted in place, glaring at her. Leslie covered her gasp with both hands, staring wide-eyed as he stormed over. She turned to flee, crying out an apology, but he caught her by the scruff of her neck and hauled her over to the table. He then bent her struggling form over the table and, tugging down her dark wool pants, he laid several solid whacks of the switch to her bare bottom. Jess never knew anyone could shriek so loud.

His sisters fled the house during the punishment, declaring that the chores they neglected all day suddenly needed their immediate attention, but Jess stood firm, too afraid to leave. One glare from father changed his mind and Jess found himself out in the garden pulling up weeds to the sound of Leslie's punishment. He worked, his guts churning as the sickening crack of a switch pierced his ears. Leslie's howls were apparent immediately after, a shrieking so terrifying it made him tremble. Jess knew how she felt, having been through it before. It seemed as if an hour had passed but Jess knew she was only punished for a few moments. The handful of weeds he pulled to distract himself from her pain was sparse enough to have been gathered within a handful of minutes. Not hearing the switch any longer, Jess waited till his father left the house before slipping in to check on his friend. He spotted her in the far corner, her back to him. Leslie stood stiffly, her hands balled tight in fists at her sides as she wept. As he watched her shudder in convulsing sobs, it occurred to Jess that she seemed so much like May Belle at that moment. He felt so badly for her. He wanted nothing so much at that moment than to take her in his arms and comfort her. Jess trembled as he approached, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder but before he could touch her, father's stern voice cut through him, warning her to leave her be.

She wept in the corner until long after supper, when she was finally allowed to move to clean everyone else's plates in the wash bucket. Leslie performed her task quietly, only sniffling a bit and wiping at her tears with her sleeve. No one was allowed to speak to her and she didn't meet anyone's gaze the rest of the evening before being sent to bed.

Afterwards, as they lay in the dark, she crept over to his pallet to whisper to him.

"Jess?" Her voice was coarse from crying. Her warm breath splashed across his cheek, but he didn't turn to her, instead hoping that she would think him asleep and get the idea.

She shook him gently. "Jess," she whined, "I'm hungry."

Jess couldn't believe she was surprised. She had been sent to bed without supper. Of course she was hungry. Rather than state the obvious, he silently glared at her. Although he couldn't make out her face in the dark, he knew where she was by the sound of her breath. "Go back to sleep, Leslie." As she repeated her complaint, her stomach rumbled, loudly adding its voice to hers. "Look," he whispered, "the sooner you sleep, the sooner it will be morning. You can eat all the breakfast you want then." He rolled over and pulled his rough wool blanket up over his shoulder. Jess closed his eyes and was just about to fall asleep when she shook him again.

"What?"

"Jess, I can't sleep," she complained. "My bottom hurts too much."

Jess huffed. "Just lie on your belly and close your eyes. Sleep will come." He knew it wouldn't be as easy as that; when your belly was empty and your bottom was aching, sleep was always elusive.

As he expected, her voice came again, soft and pleading.

"What if I told your father I'm sorry and ask him for a little something to eat?"

"All you'll get is another whipping."

"What if I don't ask," she reasoned. He could practically hear the workings of her mind as she cooked up her scheme. "I could just slip down real quiet and sneak a snack…"

He sat bolt upright, glaring at her dark form. "Gods, Leslie, wasn't one switching enough for you?" His temper flared nearly out of control as he strained to keep his voice low. "If you don't go to sleep right now, _I'll_ spank you!"

Jess knew he had spoken too loudly when his father's voice drifted up from the darkness. "Something wrong up there, you two?"

Quick as a cat, he slapped his hand over Leslie's opening mouth. He knew that any answer given would get them in trouble simply by confirming that they were awake when they should be asleep. The old man had a ways about him and after ten years, Jess knew his father well enough to know that right then you didn't answer his questions. Eyes wide, they waited in tense silence until Jess was certain that father was done listening. He could feel Leslie straining to breathe against his hand. His eyes had adjusted and seeing her cheeks puffed out and her eyes wide, Jess almost laughed. He took away his hand and shoved her shoulder, sending her back towards her pallet. Jess lay back down and soon the sound of her quiet shuffling made him relax. At last he rolled over and went to sleep.

The next morning Leslie ate enough breakfast to feed an army. Jess was pleased that she at least hadn't gotten herself into any more trouble.

But now it seemed she had gotten herself into more trouble than ever.

Father was right about her, though; she was a good little girl. He never really thought of Leslie as a little girl, of course, but when she got her bottom warmed, she sure cried like one. Jess didn't enjoy her suffering, of course, but he sure enjoyed her warm smiles well enough. He laughed a little at the thought of her smile, her laughter and even her tears. They had shared so much. They had gone through whippings, baths, fights, meals, stories, adventures and songs together. They had done their chores, slept in the same loft, and shared the same whispers of fears and secret dreams on cold, dark nights. The two of them had conquered Lark Creek together. She had taught him to be brave. Leslie was one little surprise after another. She was someone he could spend a lifetime with.

If they saved her.

"We'll get her back, Jess." He turned to see his father's fire-lit face etched with concern. "I promise, we'll get her back."

Jess nodded. He could only hope they would be in time.

The jolt of the wagon reminded him of how far they had yet to travel; it would be at least another day before they reached Millsburg. A flock of birds called out above and Jess wondered if they were heading for the great city as well. The open grasslands were empty but for the occasional traveler. Jess groaned. He had never been so far from home. He always assumed he would never leave, that he would find some girl in Westwood, marry her and live forever on his family's farm. He didn't hate the idea; he just never gave any thought to anything else. Until Leslie came, there wasn't any other fate to consider. He swiped back his sweat-soaked hair and climbed up front to sit by father.

"Do you think she's all right?"

"She'll be okay, Jess." He snapped the reins and the horses picked up the pace. "Few people I know were ever so good at getting into trouble, but I never knew anyone as good as her at getting out of it."

Jess nodded. Leslie would probably talk her way out of whatever trouble she was in; she was no doubt making a merry game of convincing the Duke to let her go, probably telling him that she took the gold to save him from something awful. Jess bet the fool Duke was rewarding her for her honesty, if nothing else. Leslie was probably sitting on an overstuffed chair covered with golden silks, munching on apples while she spun a preposterous tale of poisonous gold and dangers only she knew existed.

Jess almost laughed at the thought of finding her in such a state.

It would be a sight to see.

* * * * *

Leslie felt the cool breeze gently kiss her sweat-soaked neck as they at last moved through the gates of the castle. The portcullis loomed overhead, the fangs of a monster about to close. She gazed out across the courtyard to see the servants already rushing across the lawn. Everyone in the castle probably knew of her return.

As they finally entered the castle grounds, Vasha patted her shoulder and dismounted. Leslie bit back the urge to grab the reins and ride for the hills. The guards surrounding them discouraged the notion. She wouldn't make it far before she was caught.

Her hands were still bound to the pommel, anyway.

Leslie watched with anticipation as Vasha cut the restraints. She felt the snap of the leather bonds breaking and immediately rubbed her aching wrists. Bursk's bellow caught Leslie by surprise; a full day of travel had done nothing to improve his disposition.

"I don't care," he growled, "We got the little thief and now I want my reward!"

Leslie watched without interest as the well-dressed official tried to reason with the stubborn bounty hunter. "Sir, I'm afraid we must wait until—"

Bursk growled and stepped forward. The guards drew their weapons and although the ring of steel being loosed in the late afternoon didn't slow him, Vasha's voice brought him to heel. "Bursk, if we die this close to payment, I'll kill you."

Bursk relented with a grunt. Leslie laughed a little and as Vasha helped her down, she realized how much she appreciated the woman. It suddenly occurred to her that she was actually going to miss her.

As the guards hemmed her in, sealing off her escape, Leslie realized with sudden anguish that she would miss Jess even more.


	12. Chapter 12

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 12**

Jess kept his eyes ahead on the dusty road. Father told him that they would reach the city within the next day. For Leslie's sake, Jess hoped he was right.

They came upon the final sight sometime after noon. It was unlike anything Jess had ever seen. The massive lake stretched on forever, the sunlight reflecting off its glittering surface like a thousand gold pieces winking at him in secret promise. Jess had never seen so much water in one place. It was as if the gods themselves had wept a torrent of tears for all their lost friends. There seemed enough liquid in that one place to fill a valley.

As the road drew them closer, Jess saw what appeared to be small boats bobbing on the surface of the great lake. He wondered who might be on those boats, what they were doing and what it would be like to be out there. Jess shook the musings from his mind; he had to find Leslie.

As the road turned alongside the lake Jess forced himself to look ahead. There were a great many people about, some traveling the road in wagons or on horses, others making their way on foot. The wheat fields surrounding the roads waved in the wind, a golden reminder of summer's impending end. Jess soon understood why the city of Millsburg was so named. Standing amongst the wheat were several mills, their owners no doubt preparing for the harvest. The great arms of the windmills spun slowly in the breeze, waving lazily like the wheat itself. Jess scratched his head. The place seemed peaceful enough. In a way, it reminded him of home.

As the lake-born breeze whistled through the fields and the sounds of birds he didn't know rang out, Father nudged his arm and Jess saw him gesturing ahead. As he looked to where father pointed, he saw something strange in the distance.

It looked like a wall.

The fields soon gave way to the structure. It was indeed a wall and as they drew closer, Jess realized it was the destination they sought. After three days of steady travel, they had finally arrived in Millsburg. Jess swallowed his fear. The wall wasn't like the one surrounding Westwood; where their town wall had been posts of rough hewn timber, the wall he saw now looming before him was of stone. Men in uniforms holding spears and crossbows walked along the top, patrolling between towers. Jess was in awe. He tilted back in his seat as they made their approach, trying desperately to take it all in. He felt so small before the obstacle. He didn't know what he was doing. He had come to save Leslie from a castle and now found himself intimidated by the mere wall of the city. Terror gripped him as he spied the sunlight glinting off the helmets of the soldiers. He hoped they didn't seem him.

"Eyes front, son."

Jess barely had time to heed his father's words before the gate closed in on him. He watched helplessly as they passed through the stone portal, the people on either side of the wagon crowding them in, making him feel even more trapped as the shadow of the wall-gate swallowed everyone.

The city of Millsburg was beyond anything Jess had ever beheld. Even the wall they had passed through couldn't truly compare to what he now saw. Buildings the equal of any in Westwood loomed about him, stretching off into the distance while crowds of people, enough to fill his hometown more than twice over shuffled about the streets with room to spare. Jess had never known a city could be so vast. The street itself was made of paved stone, and the sound of horse's hooves as they passed gave an oddly pleasant echo as they made their way deeper into Millsburg.

Jess wanted to look at everything, to talk to everyone, but as he glanced ahead, his wonder was stolen, replaced in an instant with a sickening dread. The sight of it took his breath. It towered over the entire city, blocking out half the sky with its hulking white might. Jess swallowed hard at the image waiting at the end of the road.

The Duke's castle.

Jess' jaw hung agape. In all his life, he had never known anything could be so big. Even the tallest of trees would have seemed small compared to the castle. They were on the opposite side of the city and already Jess could sense the evil of the place.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jess turned to the source of the voice. He found an old woman walking along beside their wagon. She was smiling as she stared at the distant castle. "I've lived here my whole life and I still feel a chill whenever I look upon the Duke's great castle."

Father pulled the wagon over, letting men on horses thunder through the street. The woman stopped as well. She was still staring at the castle. It seemed strange to Jess that the woman would call the place beautiful. It occurred to him there might be men about that listened for talk against the Duke. Jess minded himself, lest he be taken prisoner for thinking bad thoughts.

"What's it like in there?" he heard himself ask.

For the first time, the woman took a good look at the two of them. "You're not from around here, are you, boy?"

Jess shook his head. "We're from the country."

The woman nodded. "Country folk are always welcome, but I should warn you, there are people here that can't be trusted." Her smile warmed her face, making her previous statement seem untrue. "I'm sorry dear; I didn't mean to frighten you." She drew her shawl up around her shoulders. "It's just there are some people around who don't like strangers."

Jess didn't know what she meant and found he didn't really care. He had business with the castle and no stranger-hating people were going to stop him. Jess gestured ahead as people ambled by. "Can people just go in, then?"

The woman chuckled. "Well, of course, dear. The business of Millsburg is done there. Courts, trials and hearings, disputes and all manner of things are settled there everyday."

Jess realized the castle was like the manor house of Westwood. Of course the sheer size of both the city and the castle made their hometown seem like a stable. Jess felt dizzy at the prospect of entering such a place. "Well, we-we uh, we have to go," he told the woman. "Thank you."

"Oh, you can't go in now, dear," the woman said. "It's almost nightfall. The castle closes its doors after dark." She laughed softly. "Why, you wouldn't make it halfway there before everyone locked up for the night."

Jess felt his hopes sinking. He wouldn't be able to save Leslie until tomorrow. He didn't know if she would be all right for another day. Jess knew there would be no one to help her. Leslie was alone in that awful place. He turned desperately to his father.

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

Father let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I guess we can find a place to stay for the night. We can probably make it inside by tomorrow."

"I have a place," the woman offered. "An inn; The Sleeping Pig. My son runs it. It's very affordable for people just coming into the city."

Jess nodded. "That sounds good."

He looked to his father for approval. The curt nod he received was enough and the woman led them down the road toward a stable for their horses.

The inn was empty. A few women in plain brown servant dresses wiped down tables, and Jess saw a young man about Ellie's age sweeping the floor. Other than the few old men in a corner booth, smoking and talking quietly, the place was empty.

The Sleeping Pig was a quiet place. The fireplace lent an eerie glow to the room, as soft music wafted to him from the strings of some strange instrument played by a man on a small stage at the other end of the room. A rotund man about his father's age wiped down a counter and barked orders at the young man as he watched them approach. Jess felt out of place dealing with strangers, but with his father right ahead of him, he knew that he was safe.

As father inquired about rooms, Jess let his gaze slide lazily around the place. He had been in shops in Westwood before, and even inside the manor house on the hill, but few of the places in Westwood matched the size and beauty of this simple inn.

The floor was worn wood, clean and smooth and the tables were large enough to seat several men. He could only imagine what the place must look like when they were busy. Father rested a big hand on his shoulder.

The older man behind the counter called out to the young man sweeping the floors. "Henry!" He pointed at the two of them. "See them to their room."

Henry nodded and, handing his broom to the nearest servant woman, strolled past. He looked back at father and smiled. "This way, sir."

Jess followed his father up the stairs to a hallway. They stopped in front of an old door. The wood looked ancient and the paint had faded, but as they entered, they found the room a pleasant enough place.

"Supper will be ready in an hour," Henry told them. "Lamb stew, if you care for some."

Father nodded and Henry looked down at Jess. "Hungry?"

"Y-Yeah."

Henry smiled back. "I'll bring you some stew and bread when it's ready."

As he left, Jess sat on one of the simple straw beds and watched father fill the wash basin. As he washed up, Jess heard him grumble about the water being too cold and complain about the price of the room. Jess didn't know how much they had paid but he decided it would be worth it for a chance to save Leslie. He didn't say it of course; father liked his rants to be uninterrupted.

The night at the inn was peaceful and except for the occasional muffled argument, no sounds came from below. The meal was brought to them and Jess savored the lamb stew; it was their first real meal since they had left home. Dry biscuits and meat were fine once in a while but the black bread they were given was a bit more satisfying. Jess almost wished he were brave enough to ask father for a taste of his ale but he didn't want to push his luck. He settled with his cup of cider, contented that it was sweet and helped wash down the bread.

Their supper finished, they crawled into bed and before father blew out the candle, Jess asked him if he really thought Leslie would be all right.

"Jess, that girl will be just fine. If you don't stop worrying and get some sleep, she's not gonna want to see you."

Jess nodded and allowed his mind to drift. He was asleep in minutes.

* * * * *

They were awake before dawn, neither wanting to delay another moment. When father tried to shake him awake, Jess had clung to sleep until father reminded him of Leslie. After that he was ready in a minute. By the time they pulled onto the street there were already a great many people out and about. Shop people opened their windows, hawkers roamed calling out their wares and the city took on the bustling sounds of life.

Jess guessed they had arrived during a market day. There were all kinds of things available, from apples and pears, to beef and chickens and the food was the least of it. Jess saw more assortments of cloth, trinkets, pottery, metalwork and leather than he ever thought could exist. The whole city seemed a place of infinite wealth. With so much to sell, buy and trade, Jess began to wonder if maybe they had a market-day everyday.

He leaned back in his seat, yawning as he stretched out his arms. He decided he would ask Leslie about the city when they saved her. She would know. As his thoughts refocused, Jess gazed ahead, towards their final destination.

As they rode onward, the morning light splashed over the castle, setting it in a dark shadow. The sight stole his breath. He didn't know how they would get Leslie out of there, but he knew that they had to try.

The crowds parted, allowing their wagon to pass. Jess let his mind wander, thinking about all the times he and Leslie shared. He had learned to read because of her and as they passed the many shops, Jess busied himself with reading the signs. Most held only a symbol, an herb leaf for an herbalist or an anvil for a blacksmith but as they neared the castle, the symbols gradually turned to fancy words. He read a few personal signs, most for dressmakers or inns. The shops in Westwood were fine but the ones he saw now were unlike any he had ever known, with large glass windows for displays of dresses already made. Jess always thought dresses were made in the home. You could only buy the cloth and make them; he didn't really understand how you could be sure the dress was the right size if it was bought already made. He made a promise to remember to ask Leslie about dresses when he saved her. Of course the shops weren't the only things that impressed him. The houses were even more magnificent. Jess wondered who would live in such fine places and why they would need such large homes. Rich folk were always spending money on things they didn't need, father often said, but Jess figured they must need the spare room for all their servants. He wondered what it would be like to serve a family of wealthy merchants, and wear fine livery, run important errands, be paid a handsome wage and know you had an important future.

It occurred to him that he wasn't offering Leslie much of a future. Father had brought him all the way from their home to rescue her, but, if they succeeded, she would be back on their simple farm. There wasn't much else for them. They would probably both grow old working in other people's fields.

But they would be together. Jess reminded himself that Leslie wanted to be with him, that she liked the farm. He instantly recalled her easy laugh, her smile and the way she always seemed to make the ordinary tasks of life tolerable, the boredom less severe. He wondered if he was really going to save her because she needed him and worried that maybe he was going to save her for himself.

As he shook away his doubts, Jess returned his eyes to the street. The castle suddenly loomed overhead, the towers standing tall and white against the blue sky. As his gaze meandered up the face of the fortress, he felt the chill wind freeze his blood. Leslie was somewhere inside the castle, no doubt in some stinking dungeon. He ran a hand back through his thick hair as he wondered how they would find her in such a place. As he considered each possible plan, they came upon the ramp, a great sloping piece of solid grey stone that led directly into the castle. The wagon lurched back as they began their ascent. Jess held tight to his seat, lest he fall back into the wagon bed as he felt himself being pulled to his doom.

Many other people on horses or foot walked up the ramp. There was even a coach or two carrying someone important. He couldn't see through the covered windows, but it was still a sight to remember. As the group strode toward their common destination, Jess wondered who those people were coming to save. Some people held objects wrapped in cloth—gifts, he guessed, for the Duke. He remembered then what he had brought and wormed his fingers into his pocket. He sighed in relief.

The coin was still there.

Holding tight to his one hope, he steadied himself and finally, after days of travel, terror and dreaming, they looked upon the opening to the castle.

Jess remembered Leslie telling him about the castle, about how the ramp led to a chasm called a moat and how the bridge that spanned it doubled as a door for the keep.

True to her word, the ramp ended abruptly and Jess saw the chains to each side attaching the great bridge to the stone of the keep were thick and dark. He imagined those chains binding Leslie to this terrible place. His stomach tightened as the sound of the horses changed from the sharp _clack_ of hooves on stone to the soft _thunk_ as father set them onto the wooden bridge.

Jess peered across the side and caught glimpses of the chasm twenty feet below, its bottom glistening in the midday sun. The river Dundry had flowed all the way to this forsaken place and a small part had been diverted to further separate the castle from the town. Jess couldn't imagine how anyone could ever reach the castle without being invited.

He looked ahead once more and was startled to find the castle's great maw bearing down on them. Sharp fangs protruded from the alcove above, pointing down at them as the passed through the gatehouse. Jess knew they were the tips of something that Leslie called the portcullis and that it was lowered in times of siege. Jess didn't understand how the thing worked exactly but it certainly looked menacing, like the fangs in the maw of a beast; a beast that was now swallowing them.

He knew that if it lowered behind them, they would never escape.

As father guided the wagon in, Jess looked back to see the great gate still stood open. The easy part was over; they were inside. The difficulty would be found in getting out.

The surrounding crowd slowed to a stop, the people looking about for some direction. A man grumbled about everything taking so long and some of the women started chatting about what they needed to pick up at the market that day. Jess wondered if any of them felt as scared as he did. Father nudged him then and motioned near the main entrance. A man had appeared. He looked important, descending the splay of granite steps in his fine clothes and as he strode toward them, many of the surrounding folk quieted.

"All supplicants wishing to see the bailiff will please follow me." He strode away without another word. Jess hopped down and started after him. Hope lightened his steps; he was finally getting his chance to save Leslie. The other supplicants jostled him as they passed. No one apologized and Jess glared up at them as they continued. They were heading towards the entrance to the main keep, the great doors at the top of wide stone steps standing open as if in invitation.

He wished Leslie were there with him.

The entry room was vast behind anything Jess had ever seen. The whole place seemed to stretch on forever and as he moved towards the end of the room, he could see by the light from the windows that the inside of the castle was vastly different from the outside.

The walls were warm wooden paneling that reflected the soft sunlight and the floor was a hard polished wood covered with a thick rug. Jess expected the place to be stone. Much of it was as comfortable as the inn where they spent the night and as he stared up to the ceiling, he craned his neck to take it all in. It looked to be as high and endless as the open sky. Jess watched the wooden beams intently, half-expecting to see birds nesting.

The place seemed so vast and impressive that it made Jess felt like an ant. He felt himself run into something soft and thick. He staggered back as the man in front of him straightened and glared down at him. Jess smiled an apology and the man resumed his steps toward the opposite end of the room. Father nudged Jess on and he followed the man, being more careful this time to keep his distance.

Voices were hushed but Jess distinctly heard someone of authority speaking. He couldn't tell what the man was saying but he figured he was the one in charge, judging by the tone. Jess peaked around the line of people and saw a heavy-set man sitting before a large oak desk. He knew by the papers stacked up around him and the people milling about that he was an administrator and the guards to his sides made the impression even more obvious.

Clutching the package under his arm, he pulled the coin out of his pocket. It glinted, winking at him in the sunlight coming through the open doors. He was so close after so long. He only had to wait.

The hour passed slowly and when he finally approached the large desk, confident that he knew by now what to expect, the man was writing something in a ledger. His head was bent down as he concentrated on his task so he didn't notice Jess' approach.

As Jess shuffled to a stop, he wondered what he was writing. Maybe it was a slip of paper to order the release of a prisoner—or maybe an execution. He swallowed hard as the man finished whatever it was he was writing and glanced up.

Jess smiled. He knew this would be exactly like the magistrate back in Westwood. He bowed and began speaking. "My name is Jess, sir. I've come in search of—"

"Oh!" a voice from beyond the desk called. Jess looked past the bailiff to see a woman just entering a doorway. "So _you're_ the infamous 'Jess.'"

Jess stood stunned. How could she have known his name? He didn't understand that word—infa-something—but he understood that the woman knew him. Her voice carried a hint of mild wonder and as she strode towards him, she beamed with a bright smile. Jess backed up against his father as the woman stopped in front of them, extending her hand. "Hello. I'm Judy."

He took her hand somewhat gingerly, releasing it after a moment. She stood there, hands clasped in front of her exquisite dress, with a bright smile on her pleasant face. Jess could tell by the woman's fine dress that she was someone of great importance. As he peered tentatively up at her, he noticed that her nose looked a bit too big for her face and her kind features were framed by dark, reddish hair that draped about her shoulders. Jess still couldn't imagine how she could have known his name but he realized the Judy-woman meant him no harm. Her smile was warm, like Leslie's. Jess wondered if he would ever see his friend smile like that again. Jess reprimanded himself as he put those thoughts aside; he had to keep a level head if he was to get her out of this place.

He looked up into the woman Judy's amber-colored eyes—eyes that held no promise of returning his friend. He didn't know what to ask, what to demand to make her let Leslie go; he only knew that he wanted her back and he was willing to give anything for her.

He held out the coin as she opened her mouth to speak. She frowned instead and, taking the coin, asked him what it was. "Gold," he said simply. "Leslie took it from you." He sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm returning it to you."

"Thank you," she said, seeming not to understand. As she handed the coin to the administrator, she turned back to him, smiling. "Well, would you like to see her?"

Jess felt his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. "Yes!" He winced back at the sound of his own shout as it echoed around the room. "Sorry. Yes. I-I would like that very much."

Judy waved off his apology and led him towards the door. Father followed closely behind him as they proceeded into the castle proper. Jess watched the swish of the Judy-lady's skirts as she strutted across the expanse of floor and disappeared through the open doorway. He followed her through and found the hall to be much the same as the audience hall. He expected torches in scones set on stone walls, the smell of flaming pitch to assault his nostrils as water dripped down around his feet. He found instead warm paneled walls and hardwood floors covered with soft carpets all illuminated by candles and oil lamps in some places and great sheets of glass allowing in the sunlight in the grander hallways. Silver plates set behind the candles reflected their gentle glow around the hall providing even more light while open windows let in the sun where they could. The whole place had an airy welcoming quality, not at all like a dungeon.

As they moved along, Jess wondered who the woman leading him really was—he saw more than a few servants curtsy or bow to her as they passed, so he knew that she was important.

He also wondered how she had known his name.

A chilling thought occurred to him: Maybe they had gotten his name from Leslie.

Jess had heard stories of what the people in castles did to prisoners. He knew that torture was often used as a means of gathering information and he realized that when they tortured Leslie, she must have told them everything. His stomach roiled with worry over what they had done to her to make her talk. Jess thought he might be sick over what condition they would find her in and if she would even survive the trip home.

After a few tense minutes of walking, Judy turned to ascend a staircase. Jess hesitated. He thought they should be going down to a dark dungeon but as he followed the Judy woman higher into the castle, the sights became ever more elaborate. Jess took in a myriad of tapestries hanging on the walls, depicting scenes of great battles and people he couldn't know. He saw elaborate couches and chairs and several servants going about their business replacing flowers in vases and sweeping carpets and polishing furniture. He wondered which tasks Leslie had undertaken when she first lived in the castle and hoped they didn't make her do anything degrading. Jess ground his teeth at the thought of Leslie being made to empty chamber pots and being whipped by the kind-looking woman for failing to curtsy properly. Jess couldn't imagine Leslie curtsying to anyone and the thought of this haughty woman hurting Leslie for not doing it right made his blood boil.

Judy smirked over her shoulder at him. He forced a smile as she led him down another hall and up another flight of stairs. Jess rushed to keep up the whole way; his legs burned from the effort of keeping up with her until finally, after turning down several corridors and passing more rooms than Jess could even count, Judy stopped before a door and knocked softly.

No one answered.

"Leslie?" Judy called. "Are you awake?"

Jess felt his blood run cold. He held his breath. The silence was deafening. Judy called again. "Leslie?" There was still no answer. When Jess came forward a step, Judy looked down at him and smiled. She called again. "There's someone here to see you, Leslie!"

"I don't feel well," came the muffled reply. "Please leave."

Jess froze before the door. He knew that voice. "L-Leslie?"

A moment passed before the voice responded. "Jess?!" The sound of footsteps padded towards the door. Jess braced himself as the sound grew closer, more urgent. He bit his lower lip in anticipation as he watched the door-handle turn. The door creaked open. Jess gasped aloud at the hammering of his heart, the blood pounding in his ears.

The door swung open wide revealing a girl. As he caught sight of her, Jess let out a cry of blessed relief.

It was Leslie.

She stood there, still as stone, her almond-shaped eyes wide. Jess laughed.

He'd done it.

He'd found her.

"Leslie!"

Leslie rushed forward. "I thought I'd never see you again!" She flung herself into his arms, clutching him tight. He dropped the package with her dress and wrapped his arms around his best friend, his fear for her safety finally extinguishing in the warmth of her embrace. He held her tight as they both wept. He wanted to say so much, to tell her how scared he had been, but at that moment, words seemed meaningless.

He heard her gasp as she wept into his shoulder. "Oh, Jess, I missed you so!"

Jess stood holding her, afraid to let go lest she fade away. The smell of her hair was wonderful. She felt so soft, so warm. He could hear her whimpering against him, crying softly and whispering over and over again how much she had missed him.

She finally released him and stood back to look him over. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her wonderful smile. He stared into her eyes, her bluish-green eyes that sparkled like the pond on a clear day.

Everything seemed right again.

He bent down to retrieve the package containing her dress. As he plucked it up, he stood awkwardly brushing the road dust from the wrapping. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Mother wanted you to have this…"

As he apologized, his heart racing from the thrill of being reunited, he caught sight of something he hadn't noticed before: Her hair was long.

It flowed down past her shoulders in shining, golden waves.

"L-Leslie…" he stammered, pointing at her golden locks. "W-what happened to your…?"

It was then that he looked down the length of her. His eyes took in the dark blue of her dress—the finest dress he had ever seen—much finer than the one he had returned to her. The white horse stitched on the front had great feathered wings spread out like a bird in flight and while the layer of road dirt smeared across the front tainted its beauty, Jess realized she had only received such filth by hugging him a moment ago.

Jess looked from Leslie, to Judy, to his father and finally back to his best friend. "What's going on?"

Leslie averted her gaze. "Jess, there's… something I've been meaning to tell you…" She hooked a lock of hair behind an ear but didn't look him in the eye. "I'm not a thief," she began, "And I don't work here, exactly."

Jess blinked. He felt his mouth go dry. He knew he was on the verge of hearing something very important but he was afraid to ask what it was—he didn't think he wanted to hear it. "But those people took you, Leslie. The soldiers—"

"They weren't soldiers, Jess. They were bounty hunters."

"I-I don't…"

"They took me because my father paid them to bring me back… here." She bit her lip, as if bracing herself for something.

Jess frowned. "Your father…?"

"The Duke." Her bluish-green eyes met his with a gaze that sent shivers thorough his soul. "The Duke is my father, Jess. He paid the bounty hunters to bring me back here because… this is where I live." She stood taller then, her shoulders squared and her back arched as she faced him fully. "My family owns this castle. Duke William is my father." She took a deep breath and delivered the rest, destroying him. "And my name is not Leslie Wilkins," she said. "It's Leslie Burke."

Her words hit him like a slap. Jess felt them more than he heard them. It occurred to him that she had said something important and that he should say something too but his mouth hung open, unable to bring forth anything. He didn't really understand at first, but as the terrible truth began to take hold, Jess found himself struggling to draw a breath. He still didn't say anything—he couldn't. The truth inundated him, washing away everything he had ever believed about the girl standing proudly before him. He wanted to say a lot, wanted to scream denial at her, to call her a liar, to demand that she take it all back and tell him the truth.

But the words wouldn't come.

He knew she wasn't lying.

It was then that he felt the pain. It rose up from deep in his gut spreading like a wave. It formed an iron hard spike that pierced his heart. Jess' eyes stung as he felt the sharp stab of betrayal. The burning weight of it came crashing down on him with a force like nothing he had ever known. His breathing became labored and as he gazed at her through watery vision, he felt his dreams crumbling away beneath him.

He was only dimly aware of the package as it slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor.

Leslie just stood staring, silent as stone.

Jess turned from her placid gaze and did the only thing he could.

He ran away.


	13. Chapter 13

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 13**

Ignoring the protests of both his father and the girl he thought was his friend, Jess raced away from the nightmare he had found, from the girl he only thought he knew. He felt the hammer-hard beat of his cheap leather shoes beating against the hardwood floor as her hurtful words seeped into every part of his mind. Hot tears streamed across his face as he stumbled past the servants, guards, and all the people in the audience chamber and finally out into the open air of the courtyard. The sunlight stung his eyes and he had to run blindly, but he kept going, knowing somehow that it was the only way to keep the truth from catching him up. It was his only chance. He couldn't stop to think or respond to the voices of people calling out to him. He just kept on going, out of the castle, across the drawbridge and into the open city. He smashed into several people as he fled through the streets, ignoring their curses and stumbling to keep his balance as they shoved him away. Jess couldn't keep his footing, falling at last among the many unconcerned passersby.

As he dropped to his knees, the cold stone welcomed his defeat.

He was such a fool.

Jess wept against the smooth, dull cobblestones, not caring that everyone nearby watched. Children's voices asking their mothers _what's wrong with that boy_ and _why is he crying_ drifted to him. He didn't raise his head to answer as their mothers shushed them and pulled them away. No one else bothered him as he kept crying, pounding his fists against the street and trying with all his might not to vomit.

She was a noble. A noble! How could he have not known? How could she have lived with him and not said anything? How could he have been so blind? He was a fool, that was how. He had never really known her. He never really knew anything. He didn't know how long he wept against the cobblestones, his face flushed with anger and shame, but after a while, he felt the familiar roughness of his father's hands scoop him up and carry him to the side of the street. Without a word, father gingerly lowered him into the wagon bed and moments later, Jess watched the sky through tear-stained vision as they rode away from the castle, the city, and everything he thought he knew.

It was a long, quiet journey home. The hoof-beats of their draft horses, the jangle of tack and the groaning of the wagon were the only sounds Jess heard for many hours. Father said nothing, just mercifully left him to his pain. Jess wept against the wagon bed and as the sun beat down against his cheek, he closed his eyes against it. As the wagon bounced along the old dirt road his bitter thoughts of Leslie finally consumed him.

He had imagined more than was real. She had never been his friend. Not really. She had only tricked him; that was all. She had made him think that he mattered, believe that he was special. He wasn't special. He was just a fool who believed her stupid lies. Now it was over. He would never see her again. He knew it was for the best. He wasn't good enough for her.

But she shouldn't have lied to him. Jess pounded his fist against the wagon-bed and wept frustrated tears over her betrayal.

He must have sounded so foolish to her. He had shared with her so much of himself, things he had never shared with anyone. He had come to care about her more than he ever thought he could care about anyone, had worried over her when she was taken away and traveled farther than he ever imagined he could just to save her.

But she didn't need saving. She was never in any real danger. She was home.

She was probably laughing right then with her noble friends about the stupid, filthy peasant boy and how he had believed he was her equal. Jess remembered teaching Leslie how to milk their cow and pull weeds from the garden and a hundred other chores that were beneath her and felt humiliation roil inside him. Jess felt sick at his presumption. He remembered bathing with her in their little pond and he suddenly felt as if he might die of shame. Jess worried that Leslie might decide to pay his family back for the times that Ellie and Brenda had tormented her. He recalled the time father had whipped him and Leslie for being late for supper. Every time a patrol of soldiers passed, Jess felt his stomach tighten with fear that they would attack. None did. Still, Jess reasoned that Leslie might someday send men to hurt them for the times she had been whipped or bullied by the Aarons. He really didn't know that she wouldn't hold a grudge.

As much as Jess feared them, nobles were a mystery to him. They lived in a different world, with their servants, valets and soldiers in their big scary castles.

Leslie was better off in a castle. She deserved a castle.

After three days of tears and travel Jess finally detected the bittersweet scents of home. The grass was wet from a recent rain and he heard the squeal May belle made as she came running up to the wagon. Her voice rang out against the darkening sky, her shrill cries of "father!" telling everyone of their return. When her squeals turned towards him, he ignored her, not moving so she would think him still asleep. She reached for him then, shaking him in an effort to wake him from his pretend slumber. Father told her to "hush, and leave him alone." Jess didn't bother to sit up; he hadn't eaten much and he didn't think he had the strength left to lift himself off the wagon bed.

As he felt his father lift him, Jess still pretended to be asleep, hoping father would take him inside.

His wish was granted and from his pallet, Jess listened as father went downstairs and laid out everything that happened. He could hear the sounds of gasping and caught a few distinct words that weren't meant for little ears. The story was complex, but father never embellished, so it wasn't long before he got to the important parts—Jess knew father had gotten to the part about Leslie being a noble's daughter when he heard Ellie and Brenda's cries of "By the gods!"

Jess almost smiled. He knew it would be a tale repeated to wide eyes and stunned disbelief: A noble girl living right under their thatched roof. He wished he had the strength to be down there right then, to savor the looks on the faces of his obnoxious sisters, if nothing else.

The thought certainly tickled him: The snooty Ellie and Brenda, who fancied themselves akin to nobility, finding out that the girl they had bullied and sneered at was really their better all along.

His mirth burned to bitter anguish as he realized that Leslie was his better too.

As Father droned on about their return home, Jess let his thoughts drift back to a time before, when he barely knew Leslie—and then he cursed himself, remembering that he never really knew her—that far away time when he thought he did. Breakfast was served and Leslie was talking about her mysterious past. Jess was shocked to discover that she didn't have any friends.

He shivered as Brenda's admonishment rang through his memory.

_You don't have any either!_

Jess clawed away his bitter tears. "Brenda was right," he sobbed, "Brenda was right about everything."

As the pain of the truth bore down on him, he glanced over at Leslie's pallet. Through blurred vision he could see her ruffled blanket lying atop her abandoned pile of straw.

Gazing upon her forsaken bedding, Jess knew then that she would never return.

* * * * *

Jess wasn't sure when he fell asleep; he just knew the sunlight streaming through the window meant the day had started without him. He supposed he should hurry to his chores before father whipped him. He lifted his heavy head and glanced across the room. Leslie's pallet was empty. He smiled at the unkempt sight.

She was probably down below, making breakfast and waiting for him to…

Then he remembered.

As he turned away from the sickening sight, he felt something brush against his head. It was the sack that Leslie had used. It still contained the book they had received from Mrs. Vanderholt. Jess heaved a sigh. He supposed he should return it. He was finished with it anyway.

When he went downstairs, he found everyone was already awake. Brenda and Ellie quietly bothered mother about something, while May belle played with a doll she had received at the festival. Leslie had given it to her. Jess turned from the sight, preferring his sister's bickering to the reminder of his hated loss. Mother was just saying _no_ for "the last time" when she noticed him. Everyone fell silent. Jess stood there, waiting for someone to speak.

When no one did, he started for the door. Mother's voice stopped him.

"Sit down, Jess," she offered. "You should have something to eat."

He motioned towards the door-flap. "I have to do my chores."

"Your father's doing everything today, you just sit down."

As Jess wearily complied, he met the gaze of his sisters. It had begun. Everyone would be quiet around him for the next few days. He thought it could even go on for a full week.

It had happened before. Once, when he was even younger than May belle, he had found a rabbit and named it Charlie. He loved Charlie, would feed him carrots, talked to him for hours and pretended they were great adventures, seeking treasure and danger. They had a great deal of fun. But one day, Charlie fell ill. Jess nursed him for several days, but he only got worse, until he finally died. Jess was heartbroken and everyone was kind to him after that, at least for a while. Even Brenda treated him like a normal person.

Jess sighed.

It was Charlie all over again.

Jess ran his finger in little circles on the table. It had been more than six years since Charlie's death and Jess had not given his old rabbit much thought; he found he could barely even recall the color of his fur. Jess' hand stilled. The thought occurred to him that he might forget about Leslie too. The very idea scared him. Even though Leslie never really cared for him and as much as he hated what she had done, he still found himself smiling whenever he thought about her.

Her laugh was lighthearted and full of life. Jess smile widened. He would have done almost anything to make her laugh. Often times, he fell face-down in the dirt, just to see if she thought it funny. She rarely liked when he fell, saying that he scared her and that he should be more careful, lest he get hurt.

Her smiles when he said he was fine were the most caring he ever knew.

They shared more than laughs, of course, swapping stories and fears and things he never got to share with anyone else and Leslie listened to all of his worries. She seemed to genuinely care about his view of the world and how he felt about things.

But it was all lies.

She never cared about him, not really; she just wanted to make fun of him. His fists tightened on the tabletop at the thought of her bragging to all her noble friends about how she had fooled him. Jess ground his teeth as he pictured their laughter.

Jess turned away from the table in disgust, cursing at the irony; he had finally managed to make Leslie laugh. He got his wish, but it wasn't what he expected. He decided he wasn't hungry after all and told everyone that he was going for a walk. Jess went upstairs and grabbed the book he needed before heading out. Mother said something about not to be out too late but he was already on his way.

Running to the forest wasn't the fun it had once been. There was no laughter, no song, nothing but the wind in his face and the pain in his chest. He felt his heart pound with every step, knowing it would never heal. As the breeze dried his tears, he ignored the waves of people on the road, intent on showing them nothing of what he felt. His only thought was to reach the trees and hide and only when he finally reached them did he allow himself to slow. He listened intently to the nothing that greeted him. The woods were quiet. Everything seemed strange. With Leslie the forest seemed magical, like anything was possible. Without Leslie it was an empty place, bereft of life. Jess strode through the darkest places, hoping to find a beast that would challenge him. Or kill him. He found none.

Then he saw it, the reason he'd come.

The cottage.

It was quiet. Even Mrs. Vanderholt's place seemed devoid of life. No smoke rose from the chimney and he saw no lights through the windows. He knocked on the door but no one answered. Jess peered into the windows, but the place was too dark to see anything. He wondered if he should go inside and leave the book for them. He knew he wasn't supposed to enter without permission but he had to return the book. He tried the handle. It was locked and after a while, he just gave up.

Leaving the book before the old door, he walked away from the sanctuary.

As he wandered, lost amongst the trees, he looked about the enchanted forest, savoring his final glimpse of what was once precious. The forest was their place, the secret they shared. In his heart, Jess knew he would never return to that magical place.

The pain of Leslie's lies had tainted its beauty forever.

* * * * *

A week passed. No one spoke of Leslie or often asked him how he felt. They seemed to know that anything they said would only open the still raw wounds. Over time, Brenda's rancorous nature started to show through but Jess only smiled at her insults. He never thought he would miss them, but as time passed, they returned like a summer rain. Mother even stopped reprimanding her for them.

His chores resumed. Jess was only too glad to be allowed to work again, knowing that work made you forget and that having a purpose was better than wallowing in grief.

As he walked through the yard, he reflected on how quiet his home had become. He missed his friend, missed her sound, her laughter, her stories. The farm was a lonely place without her. As he made his way to the chicken coop, he realized that for the first time in his entire life, he knew what it was to be lonely.

Jess had always been alone. He had slept alone in his loft and walked alone by the river and did his chores alone. He didn't much care about being alone. It was natural to him and he was used to it. But until he met Leslie, he was never lonely. He had never really known what it was to be lonely, that there could be something more than what he had. Leslie had changed him, changed his view of the world.

Before Leslie, he had been fine.

Jess wished he had never met her, never come to know her at all.

As he entered the coop, he tried to put aside thoughts of his former companion. He decided to concentrate on his chores and allow the work to fill the hole she had left in his heart. The empty spaces in the coop were places she should have been, places she should have stood. He bent to his task and whispered soothing words to the hens. The chickens clucked their complaints as he gathered the eggs and try as he might, Jess couldn't forget Leslie. She had built the chicken coop with him and gathered up the materials to whitewash it. She had stood by him with her hands on her hips, smiling in triumph when their work was finally complete.

Amongst the feathers drifting in the darkness, Jess could still see her dancing. He smiled. Leslie loved to dance and when she spun about in the midst of the chicken-feather-storm, she always looked like the queen of some icy world, dancing amongst the snowflakes. Jess always loved to watch her dance. He turned away from the bitter memory. He would never see her dance again. He was a fool for liking her at all. He cursed himself to get his head out of the clouds and as he left the chicken coop, he wiped the sweat from his brow with his free hand. The motion also reminded him of Leslie. The basket she helped make allowed him that free hand, allowed him to carry eggs without dropping them and Jess silently wondered how many reprimands he had been spared by not losing eggs.

As he headed for the house, he stopped to lean against the wall of the chicken coop. He stifled a sob at the thought of Leslie helping him so often, joking with him, bathing and eating and laughing with him, like he actually mattered. Jess glanced to the sky and asked questions that had no answers. "Leslie," he whispered, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you help me? Why did you even pretend to care?"

He looked down to see May belle staring at him, her round face bunched up in a frown.

"Who're you talking to, Jess?"

He didn't meet her gaze harshly, just looked at her with a hollow feeling. "Nobody," he answered. "Nevermind."

"Mamma says you ought to go back inside and talk." May belle stepped closer, clutching her little doll to her chest. "She says it might help."

Jess glared at her. "I don't think so, May Belle." He pushed past her and walked inside, not wanting to discuss how he felt with anyone.

As expected, Mother was waiting for him.

"Jess," she asked, accepting the basket. "Would you go down to town for me, please? I need a few things."

Jess nodded grateful for the opportunity to leave for awhile. She recited the list and when he had it memorized, he shuffled silently to the door. She called his name. He stopped for only a moment while she spoke.

"She loved you, you know?" Tears glistened in her warm brown eyes. "She was a nice girl."

Jess nodded and left without a word. As he made his way to town, he thought about how everything had changed. Leslie had brought meaning to his life, had given him purpose. Without her, he was alone. He kicked a rock and stumbled along, looking forward to the swim across the river. Normally he would take the bridge but he didn't want to delay and with the heat making his clothes cling to him, he was eager to cool himself down. His hopes were destroyed when he saw how fast the water was rushing. He didn't think he had the energy for a proper swim but he consoled himself with splashing some water across his arms and face. He even found a kind family that let him ride in their wagon, so he wouldn't have to hike the two miles upstream to use the bridge.

The family let him off on the other side. They offered to take him the two miles to town, but Jess waved them off. He wanted to walk the few miles and reflect on how unfair life could be.

All along the way, Jess considered the past, his present and the bleakness of his future. He would spend the rest of his life working on the farm and if he was lucky enough to find some girl to marry him, she probably would too. He wondered about Leslie's future. She would probably marry some wealthy noble and live in a great place. While Jess would eat dry bread and cold beans, she would feast on whatever fine delicacies that nobles enjoyed. Jess reprimanded himself. He was being selfish, he knew. Leslie had a brighter future than any he could offer. Who was he to want to take that away from her? He was nobody; a farm-boy and nothing else.

He set his eyes on the road ahead. Midday was approaching and he didn't want to be late.

The town was as quiet as the road and as he entered, Jess watched a manure cart pass by and thought again about how Leslie must have seen his family; as filthy peasants. He felt shamed by what he once thought, that maybe the things that people said about he and Leslie were true, that they would grow up together and—strange as it seemed—marry.

Jess stomach tightened as he tried to remember everything he ever said to her. He told Leslie his fears and dreams and of his hopes for the future.

He must have sounded so stupid to her.

Jess had everything mother needed collected in short order. He saw Hoager and Fulcher by the blacksmith's shop. They cocked their heads in invitation. Jess turned and started towards them. They wanted a fight. He intended to give them one.

As he neared, they ducked into the alley. Jess followed. They stood there staring at him. "Well, well," Hoager sneered, "if it ain't Aarons, the farm-boy!" His reedy voice incensed him and as he ran a hand through his slick black hair, he reminded Jess of nothing so much as a crow. He wished he had a stone to throw at him.

Scott looked about, expectantly. "Where's your girl, Aarons?" he snorted. "She leave you for a real man?"

Jess let the sack drop, not caring about the sound of breaking pottery it made as it hit the ground. He said nothing—there was nothing to say, really—instead glaring straight into Hoager's beady little eyes. Hoager laughed, looking back at Fulcher.

He didn't even notice Jess running towards him.

When Hoager turned back, his mean eyes went wide. He held up his hands in a feeble plea for mercy. "It-It was a joke…"

Jess felt the power of his punch before he threw it. All the pent up frustration of the past two weeks went into that single blow and as his fist connected with Hoager's nose, Jess felt it crunch. Hoager flew off his feet, landing hard on his back. He didn't moan or cry out in pain. As Jess panted in rage, expecting a fight, Hoager didn't even move.

Jess stood stunned. He never knew he could hit anyone so hard. His hand throbbed and he was sure he had broken something. The sight of Fulcher brought him back to attention; he barely had time to duck as the bully came in swinging. Jess landed a jab in his gut and brought his fist up as he doubled over, hooking him on the chin. Fulcher spun down hard and when Jess turned to the sound of voices, his blood ran cold.

The blacksmith was rushing towards them, his father right behind. Kneeling by Hoager's prone form, the blacksmith helped him sit up. His eyes burned like twin coal fires as he glared at Jess and asked, "What did you do to my son?"

Jess swallowed as be backed a step. He hadn't realized the connection; the two looked nothing alike. He couldn't meet the man's fiery glower and as father gripped his shoulders, Jess stared up into his big grey eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry…"

Father held him tight as he dissolved into miserable tears. He wasn't sorry about punching Hoager; the vile rat had it coming.

He was sorry about Leslie.

He would always be sorry about her.

"Aarons' you're through," the blacksmith growled. Jess knew the man wasn't talking to him; Father had lost his job. Jess cried for that too.

As father stripped off his leather apron, he threw it at the blacksmith and led Jess away. Jess snatched up the sack of broken things and took comfort under his father's strong arm. They walked for awhile, neither saying much, but then Jess confessed something he had been holding to for a long time. "I hate her," he breathed. "I hate her so much."

Father didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "You don't mean that, Jess."

"Yes I do," he sniffled. "I wish I never met her. I wish she had never come here."

Father squeezed his shoulder and told him about the first girl he ever loved. Jess didn't think his father had loved anyone before his mother. It was a revelation. He listened quietly while father told him the whole sad story of how he met a girl and fell in love with her only to lose her to a fever.

When he was through, Jess couldn't help but ask how he went on without her.

"By remembering," father said. "By holding on to what we had, I was able to find a way to love again." Jess didn't bother telling him he was too young for love; he knew what father meant. "You just have to remember what she did, what made you care for her in the first place. Someday, all you'll have are the good memories."

Jess wiped his sleeve across his nose. He wondered if the good memories would include punching out Scott Hoager. He decided it best not to remind father about that; he knew he was lucky not to be heading for a whipping after costing the man his job.

As they headed home, Jess felt relieved. It was as if all the horrible feelings inside him melted away like snow by the hearth. He even felt hungry again. He resolved to ask for a big supper. Jess wanted a hearty meal so he could help his father work some more.

Father agreed. Something still bothered him. "What about your job?" Jess asked. "What are we going to do?"

Father looked out at the fields. Many were being worked by their owners. "I could work for one of them," he said. "People always need an extra hand for the harvest."

Jess agreed. He even offered to help. Father told him not to worry, that he had plenty of work at home waiting for him already.

When they caught sight of home they both froze in mid-stride.

Jess stared dumbfounded, his blood running to ice as he realized that work wasn't the only thing waiting at home for him.


	14. Chapter 14

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 14**

Soldiers were everywhere. They filled the front yard, the backyard and the area beyond. Even the road was blocked by them. Jess had never seen so many of them in one place. They were at full attention, as if waiting for some signal, some order to begin a rampage. The silence was dense, the only sound coming from the area being a snort of a horse or the flap of a flag in the wind. Jess felt panic race through him.

His home was at the center of the army.

As they made their way through the silent crowd, Jess squinted against the shine of their armor. He recognized the uniforms of the men; they were from Leslie's castle. He couldn't imagine what they were doing at his home. Father moved between them, unafraid and Jess stayed close, not wanting to be alone with such grim-looking men.

Father quickened his pace as they neared the house. He called out to mother. She answered for him to come inside. As father rushed through the front flap, Jess followed.

They both came to a halt just inside the door.

There, in the common room, stood a man Jess didn't know. He was as tall as father. In his fine red coat and fancy clothes, he looked to be about the most important man Jess had ever seen. He looked down at Jess and smiled. Jess peered past the man to his mother. Father kept an eye on the stranger as he rushed to mother's side. He heard mother whispering that everything was fine. She looked at Jess expectantly. He knew something was wrong, but she said nothing, just motioned for him to come over to them.

Cautiously, Jess walked over to his parents, never taking his eyes off the strange man. He wondered who this man was, what he wanted, and if he was dangerous.

As he came around to stand in front of the important man, Jess caught sight of the fine sword sheathed at his hip—a real sword, Jess noted, not some willow stick. The fine silver crossguard glistened when the light caught it right, almost as if it were winking at him. It appeared as fancy as the man's clothes. Jess wished he could touch the fancy sword—maybe hold it for a moment, but he didn't dare ask.

Jess started when his mother nudged his shoulder. As he gazed up at the stranger, he began to speak.

"Jess," he began, "My name is William. Duke William Burke."

Jess felt his jaw drop. William Burke was the name of the Duke—Leslie's father. Jess worked hard to close his mouth and listened carefully as the Duke went on.

"I'm here on behalf of my daughter, Leslie," he continued. "Jess, I wanted to thank you for taking care of her while I was away."

As he stared up into the man's kind eyes, he wondered what he was supposed to say. He knew he was supposed to bow before nobility, but he hadn't. He thought better of trying to make up for it now, certain that the moment had passed. Unsure what to say, he simply blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "You're Leslie's father!"

It was just about the stupidest thing he had ever heard himself say.

The man didn't laugh, like Jess expected, instead giving a short dip of his head. "Lord Burke, of the House of Burke," he announced, as if addressing a king.

Jess felt his face go red as he gave an awkward, halting bow at the waist. He wasn't sure if he did it right, but the man didn't correct him. He was glad his parents were there or he might have run off screaming. He couldn't believe it. This was the most powerful man in all the land and he was standing right in front of Jess, talking to him like he actually mattered. The Duke smiled and began speaking again. Jess hung on every word.

"As I was just telling your mother, I came here to see you and to reward your bravery."

Jess swallowed. "M-my bravery, Sir?"

Lord Burke nodded. "My daughter told me about what you did for her—" his gaze took in the rest of the family. "What you all did for her. I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of my little girl while I was gone."

Jess smiled. He had never in his life thought of Leslie as a little girl, but he figured her father certainly must. Jess thought about everything that had happened. He thought about how much fun Leslie and he had together. He also thought about the last time he had seen her and thought maybe this man didn't know _everything_ that he had "done for her."

Jess licked his lips. "S-so, Leslie… told you about me?" He tried to keep his voice steady as he ventured the question, his eyes locked onto the sword at Burke's hip. He wondered if he would be cut down when Lord Burke found out about how he had run.

"Yes," Duke William continued. "She told me all about you and your family and about how you recently saved her from a group of brigands." The man reached into his pocket and produced something. He leaned down and whispered, "She said that you were very brave."

Jess thought back to the time they went to town. The "brigands" had been Fulcher and Hoager and Jess remembered giving one of them a fat lip and the other running away.

Jess didn't like being called brave. He didn't think he was brave; he simply did what he had needed to do. He wondered how Leslie had told her father about the incident. Knowing Leslie, she had probably spun a great yarn about a hundred big ugly men attacking her and Jess fighting valiantly against impossible odds. He tried not to laugh as he suddenly felt himself blushing at Leslie's description of the events. He figured he must be a great disappointment to this man who had come all the way from the castle to see the "mighty hero" who had saved his daughter's life. Jess had always loved Leslie's stories but he never thought he would become part of one. He sighed at her ability to nettle him from so far away. He really liked that about her, but she had still lied to him and that wasn't right.

Being called a hero in front of his family was even worse. Brenda and Ellie would never stop mocking him for his "courage."

Leslie had hurt him again.

Burke's voice brought him around. "I think this should do for repayment."

He held out the something he had produced from his coat. Jess stared in open wonder.

It was a gold mark.

He figured his whole family could live off it for a month. Lord Burke pressed the coin into Jess' hand. "I want you to have it—for protecting her." He smiled. "You've earned it."

Jess didn't know what to do with such a fortune. He offered it to his father, but he only crossed his arms and shook his head. His mother wouldn't take it either, so he reluctantly slipped it into his pocket. He knew better than to offer it to Ellie or Brenda and May belle would only lose it. He noticed the envious looks on his older sister's faces and tried not to smile as he looked up at Lord Burke when he spoke again.

"Of course I didn't just come all this way to give you a coin, Jess. I came here for my daughter."

"Leslie?"

"Yes. It seems she's become quite upset—she's been inconsolable ever since you left."

"Inconsol…what?"

"Crying, Jess. She's taken to her bed. She's broken-hearted."

The words hit Jess like a hammer. He didn't know what she was so upset about but he had a pretty good idea. He didn't think she had cared about him, that she was just playing him for a fool. He realized now how wrong he had been. Now he realized he was such a fool—but not because of Leslie.

Jess still didn't know what Lord Burke was doing in his home, but the thought occurred to him that he might have come looking for revenge. He didn't venture the guess, instead preferring to hear Lord Burke's explanation.

"My daughter is upset and that makes my wife and me very upset. I am not one to mince words, Jess, so I will get to the point: I want you to work for me."

Jess blinked. He wasn't sure he heard him right.

"My lord?"

The duke gestured expansively. "I need someone to look after my daughter, to keep her out of trouble." He leaned close and whispered, "As you probably know, she can be quite a handful sometimes."

Jess knew the truth of that; Leslie was trouble on two legs. She always seemed to find new ways to get him into trouble, too. It seemed that even now that she had succeeded. Lord burke was still waiting for an answer, so Jess swallowed the dryness in his throat and tried not to faint. "I-I'm not sure I understand what you want me to do, my Lord."

"I want you to work for me," he repeated. "I need someone I can trust to look after my daughter. Your mother and I have decided that you, Jess, are the right man for the job."

Jess' heart pounded. Man. Lord Burke had called him a man. He had never been called that before. He felt strange, as if being called man had somehow transformed him. He was now a man, named by a noble. He still wasn't sure what all this meant so he paid close attention as Lord Burke continued.

"You would serve my family directly and stay with Leslie at all times. You would have to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't get herself into any more trouble."

Suddenly, Jess understood. He had heard of such things happening to others but he never thought it would happen to him. He was to work for the nobility! He would have a chance to make something of himself, to achieve great things. Normally the only way anyone got to work for the nobility was if they were born servants or had a relative who put a good word in for them. Jess' family had never been around nobility, so Jess never thought it possible. The implications were staggering. He thought he might fall over. It seemed like some impossible dream, like some Leslie story, about dragons and witches and flying through the sky. He continued to stare in silent wonder as Burke explained his new position.

"Of course, you couldn't wear those… clothes. You'll be properly attired. All my family's servants wear properly tailored livery." He gestured to Jess' bare feet. "That includes boots. All my servants wear boots. Your hair will have to be brushed and your teeth kept clean and you'll have to bathe everyday."

Jess blushed as he glanced down. He never thought much about what must be his scruffy, filthy look. He always thought he looked fine. He guessed he was wrong.

"And you'd live at the castle, too, of course," Lord Burke said. "You'd have your own room, with a bed—not a pallet, a bed. The bed will have sheets. You'll have to make your bed everyday and keep your own room orderly, but the staff will wash the sheets and your uniform.

"You'll also have to learn to read and write."

"I can read, my lord," Jess interrupted. "Leslie taught me."

"Good." Lord Burke nodded. "You'll take other classes as well; classes in etiquette and decorum—how to act like a proper gentleman. You'll also have a chance to learn about history, geography, mathematics and politics. And you won't be alone, of course; Leslie will be there with you."

Leslie. Just the sound of her name made him ache with guilt at the thought of what he had done to her. He had thought she didn't care about him. He was wrong. She did care about him. She wanted to be his friend.

And he had run away.

"What if Leslie doesn't want to be my friend?"

Lord Burke stopped a moment and looked down at him. "I don't think we have to worry about that, Jess. She misses you terribly."

"She does?"

He nodded. "She wants very much to see you again."

Jess felt his breath let go with relief. It was wonderful. He was going to be with Leslie and wear fine clothes and learn to read and write and who knew what else? He realized he was standing up straighter.

"Well, Jess, what do you say? Think you're up to the task of serving my family?"

Jess grinned and nodded eagerly. "Yes, My Lord!"

Lord Burke smiled. "Wonderful! I'll send for you as soon as you're ready to leave. Just pack your things and be ready by the end of the week."

Now Jess was confused. "The end of the week? Couldn't we leave now?"

The Duke laughed. "Eager to sleep in the castle, eh, Jess?" Jess was eager to see Leslie again. "Well, you'll have to wait a little while; there are arrangements to be made, papers to be signed and such." He waved off the matter. "It shouldn't take more than a few days."

Jess acceded and took the man's hand as he offered it. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much." He didn't know what else to say. He thought a moment. He was so excited about the prospect of living with Leslie and working for nobility that he had forgotten his chores. He glanced back at his parents. Mother was smiling and near tears. Jess assumed she was filled with pride. Father looked at him with his usual indifference. Ellie and Brenda were glaring at him. Jess savored their bitter expressions and turned back to his new Lord. "But, what about my family?" he asked. "I have a bunch of chores and errands to do for them. What if they need me?"

"They would be paid for your absence. I am prepared to offer them substantial compensation."

Jess gave him a questioning look.

Lord Burke leaned down and whispered to him. "I'll pay them for you."

"How much?"

His father thumped his head and mother scowled in warning. Jess had obviously crossed a line with his question. He hadn't meant any harm—he was only worried it wouldn't be enough.

"Three gold marks," Lord Burke told him. Jess felt dizzy at the amount. "A month," the Duke added. Jess nearly fell over.

If he worked solid for ten more years, Jess was certain he wouldn't be worth nearly that much. He wanted to beg off the payment but as he struggled to find the words, Lord Burke handed the coins to his father. Just like that, it was done. His future was secure.

Lord Burke looked down at Jess and smiled. "Jess, I'll see you in a week." The transaction complete, Lord Burke headed out. He waved back at Jess as he climbed into his carriage and departed. Jess thought of something just then.

Running up to the coach, he staggered up to the door. "Lord Burke?"

Lord burke looked through the window at him. "What is it?"

"Could you tell Leslie something for me?" He heaved a heavy sigh. "Tell her… I'm sorry."

Lord Burke smiled and nodded that he would. "I think that it would mean more coming from you, Jess."

Jess agreed and promised to tell her as soon as he saw her again. Lord Burke thanked him and smiled as the carriage pulled away. Jess stood in the road awhile watching him leave, thinking about Leslie and everything that was coming.

He wasn't sure if he could be friends with Leslie anymore, but he was willing to try.

He only hoped she was willing to forgive him.


	15. Chapter 15

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 15**

The next few days were the most exciting of his entire life. Jess could hardly eat, barely sleep. He just kept thinking about everything he would see and do and experience. His family was more light-hearted than he ever remembered. Father exchanged two of the three gold marks for silver and came home with purses of silver pieces and a pouch full of copper. He explained that he had bought some food and a fine wine to celebrate his son's good fortune yet still had so much left over he would have to save it. Mother prepared a grand feast for them that very night and everyone agreed it was the best meal ever. It seemed that Jess' good fortune meant good fortune for all. Father had lost his job with the blacksmith but with the gold they were paid it didn't matter; they could eat for a month on half what they were paid. With so much extra money they could afford new clothes, shoes, pottery and some toys and dolls for May belle. There was even talk of buying more land and starting up a proper farm. May belle fancied the idea of having the upper room when Jess was gone and Ellie said she was proud of him. Everyone seemed in a good mood—except for Brenda, who was too jealous to be happy for him.

Jess didn't feel all that great. He wished he knew what to do about Leslie. He had broken her heart; that wasn't something you just forgive. He knew he had to do something for her, something to show her that he was sorry, but he was at a loss as to what he could do. She was a noble after all. What could he possibly get her that she didn't already have? He decided it would have to be something she wouldn't expect, something special and beautiful, something like Leslie. He had the coin Leslie's father had given him and he was more than eager to spend it. Jess knew Leslie deserved more than a humble apology but after three days of searching, he realized that there was nothing in Westwood that suited her.

He finally decided that he would just apologize and hope it was enough.

With all the money coming in and the possibility of living with Leslie, Jess felt like life had just begun. He didn't even worry about chores anymore. His family kept him busy but he knew it was to calm him; he talked so often about what was to come that he was driving everyone crazy. He lay awake at night thinking about Leslie, about her almond shaped eyes, her easy laugh, about the way she smiled. He thought about how much he enjoyed talking to her. He only hoped she would want to talk to him again.

As he rolled over and felt himself drifting, he caught the glimmer of an idea for her gift, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

* * *

The final day came at last. Jess awoke with a smile on his face; he had dreamt of Leslie.

As he pulled himself up, he brushed off the straw, satisfied with the thought that he would never again have to sleep on a pallet. He would sleep in a bed that night. He would eat fine meals and read books and wear proper livery. He would be like a noble himself.

As he went downstairs, everyone smiled at him. The family smiled more often of late. Jess smiled back. Breakfast was cooking and as he took his seat on the bench, he wondered what breakfast in the castle would be like.

Jess was told that he wouldn't have to do his chores. He knew it was because the day had finally arrived. Lord Burke was to send for him and he guessed he wasn't supposed to get dirty. Jess sighed. After breakfast, he sat idle. He didn't know what he would do with his day but mother tossed a sack and told him to get a bath and change into the clean clothes she had given him. He thanked her as she shooed him out the door.

The pond came into view after only a few minutes, its dark surface sparkling in warm greeting. The trees screened it from view, affording him some much-valued privacy. He dropped his pack on the shore and stripped off his clothes.

As he opened the pack, he rummaged through its contents, finding the towel his mother had promised. He set his spare clothes on a nearby rock along with his towel and slipped into the welcoming pond. As he settled down to his waist, he savored the cooling feeling of the lapping waters washing away the dirt along with his concerns for the future.

Bathed and dried, he pulled out the clothes mother had given him. They were his good temple clothes. He didn't like how they itched but he liked the idea of looking his best. Smiling, he slipped on the dark trousers and red shirt with the nice vest. He had a good hour before noon, and with nothing else to do, Jess decided to walk to town. He took the bridge so as not to ruin his clothes and soon found himself wandering though the street on the hunt for Leslie's gift. He still had no idea of what to bring her. She would forgive him if he had the right gift. He only had a few more hours to think about it, he knew.

If only there were some sign…

Then he saw it: the very thing that would put a permanent smile on Leslie's beautiful face. He was ready to rush back home for the gold coin that Lord Burke had given him, but when he inquired about the gift, he was delighted to find it was free.

Lifting the squirming dog in his arms, he laughed aloud as it tried to lick his face. It would be perfect. He took it home and showed his mother. She laughed and told him to be careful, lest it make him a mess.

May belle rushed in then and told them somebody was here. Jess rushed out and saw the carriage waiting with a few soldiers surrounding it. The door stood open and Jess immediately headed for it. He placed Leslie's gift inside and closed the door. As he turned back, he saw his mother standing before him, father at her side. She was twisting a dishrag in her hands and smiling through her tears. Jess just stood there; he couldn't think of anything to say. She pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "I love you, Jess."

He held his mother for a long time. He tried to hold back the tears. They whispered how much they cared for each other and when the carriage driver called to him, he knew it was time. Mother held tight for a little while longer and when he finally convinced her to let go, Jess saw Ellie and Brenda standing at her side. Ellie gave him a hug, but Brenda refused, preferring to pout. Jess didn't mind; he didn't expect anything from her anyway.

Then he looked past them. Hiding behind mother's skirts, clutching her little doll, stood May belle, her plump face wet with tears. He came to her and offered her a hug. She shook her head and sobbed. Jess nodded and, patting her head, turned to leave. He nearly fell over as May belle tackled him. She clung to him, as if afraid that he would float away the moment she let go. He patted her head again and told her to be brave. "I'll write to you," he promised.

"I can't read," she sniffled.

"Father will teach you."

May belle nodded against his stomach. Then she let go clinging instead to mother who placed a tender hand on her back. Jess looked at his family and past them towards his old house. He didn't have anything to take with him except the fine clothes he wore. The Duke would provide everything he would ever need.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped into the carriage. Mother handed him a sack of food and some waterskins. Father joined him and signaled the driver. Jess heard the snap of a whip and felt the coach lurch forward.

His family waved in the window.

Quick as thought, Jess realized, he was on his way to a better life.

* * *

The trip took only the better part of the day. Jess knew it was because the coach was drawn by six horses; when they had journeyed to find Leslie, they had only two and those were pulling a full-size wagon. The journey was swift and as Jess peered out the window of the coach, he was amazed to see the world flashing by in a blur. He never thought anyone could travel so swiftly. Jess looked to his father, but he didn't seem impressed by the coach. Leslie's gift stirred in his lap, trying to get comfortable as Jess ran his hand over the leather padding of the seat. He smiled, guessing that he would just have to learn to get used to such fine things.

When they reached the city, the sun had long since set. He thought they would stop at the inn for the night, but they continued onward, towards the castle. The drawbridge was raised but when they announced themselves, the bridge lowered and allowed them entry. Jess found the darkness took away some of the castle's intimidation, realizing that if he couldn't see it, it wasn't quite so frightening.

When the carriage door swung open, Jess stepped out, father handing him his gift for Leslie before following towards the castle door. Jess stared at the coach, watching it pull away into the darkness. He guessed the stables were somewhere off to the side. As he turned towards the entryway, he realized that it was so late that he probably wouldn't see Leslie at all.

"Jess?"

He turned to the sound of Judy's voice and smiled as she waved him in. When he reached the top of the steps, Judy moved to hug him but stopped as she found she couldn't get around his squirming gift. "Jess," she managed between licks of her face, "Where ever did you get this?"

Jess smiled proudly. "I got him back in Westwood." He laughed as he tried to keep the dog's licking tongue out of his own mouth. "He's for Leslie."

"She'll love it!" Judy laughed. "Oh, Jess, I'm so glad you've come back."

"So am I, My Lady."

As they went inside, Father looked around the candle-lit anteroom, as if expecting something bad to happen. Jess knew he was only there to make sure he became settled. He appreciated his father's concern but he didn't think he needed someone looking after him anymore. He was practically a man.

A man entrusted to protect nobles.

"Well, supper is long over, but if you're hungry, I'm sure we could find something."

"Actually, I really want to see Leslie, first. I have to talk to her."

That brought a smile to Judy's face. "Of course, Jess." She extended her hand. "Right this way."

He followed her down the familiar halls and up the stairs to Leslie's room. Jess glanced back to see father trailing behind. When they arrived at the door, Leslie's present was so frantic, Jess could barely hold onto him. Judy knocked on her door.

Jess heard the muffled steps he knew well and when the door squeaked open, he could see Leslie peeking out. She looked from her mother to Jess and silently opened the door the rest of the way. Her face was blank, but when she saw the dog her face melted into a look of wonder. "Oh," she cried, in a sweet voice. "Look at you!"

Jess immediately handed the dog over to her.

"What's his name?" she asked as the dog licked her face.

"I don't know, yet." He shrugged. "You have to choose."

Leslie gaped at him. "He's for me?" Her almond-shaped eyes went wide as he nodded and then she threw her free arm around his neck in an awkward embrace. "Wow, Jess," she whispered, "Thank you!"

She set the struggling dog on the floor. "I'll name you Prince Terrian—P.T. for short."

As Prince Terrian yapped his approval, Jess watched Leslie laugh. She looked so happy, like before. He wanted to talk to her, to ask her forgiveness, but when he saw how she took to her gift, he realized it wasn't necessary; she had already forgiven him.

"So…do you like him?"

She met his gaze with a warm smile. "I love him!" She hugged him again, and as he held her, he heard her whisper, "I'm so glad you came back."

"I missed you, Leslie. I didn't want to leave you."

As they separated, she looked him over. "You're wearing your temple clothes."

"Yeah, well, they were the nicest clothes I have."

Judy and father excused themselves to talk about "grown-up things" which Jess figured meant how he would be treated and what was expected of him. Judy would have to convince father of the safety and security of his moving but Jess was certain father would be more than pleased.

Just then, Jess felt his stomach grumble.

As he rubbed his belly, Leslie noticed. "Haven't you eaten?"

"Not for a while," he said. "I had something on the road but that was awhile ago. Your mother promised me something to eat…" he gestured towards the two adults, engaged in their hushed conversation. "But I guess she's busy."

Leslie patted his shoulder. "I'll have something brought up."

Jess was about to tell her it wasn't necessary, when she glanced down the hall. Just as Jess caught sight of a girl about Brenda's age walking past the intersection, Leslie snapped her fingers. The girl stopped short at the sound and rushed over to them, stopping before Leslie and dipping a deep curtsy.

"Yes, my lady?"

Leslie smiled. "Gretchen, good." Leslie motioned toward Jess. "This is Jess. He will be serving me directly from now on." Jess dipped his head towards the young woman as Leslie continued. "He's hungry, and I need some food brought up for him right away." She counted off the food on her fingers. "Chicken, bread and cheese—with a few grapes on the side."

The Gretchen girl nodded. "Would you care for anything else, my lady?"

Leslie thought a moment. "Yes, a pot of tea and some strawberries with cream."

Gretchen nodded and dipped another low curtsy before rushing off. Leslie turned back to Jess and shrugged. "She won't be long."

Jess nodded. He didn't know what to say; he had never seen Leslie so commanding, so assertive. She always seemed so shy around older girls and to see her so casually ordering around a girl his older sister's size was startling. She seemed so much unlike the helpless girl sprawled across father's lap, howling as she received a spanking for being late for supper or hiding from Brenda when she was being moody.

Jess couldn't help but stare at her now.

Leslie frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything."

She folded her arms. "You're staring at me, Jess. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, I just…" He shook his head. "It's nothing."

Her frown deepened. "Well, _something's_ bothering you."

Jess knew she wouldn't let this go. He sighed. "Well, it's just that you told that lady what to do and all…"

"_And_?"

"And you didn't even say 'please' or 'thank you' to her—not even once."

Leslie blinked. "I don't have to say those things."

"Oh, okay." He shrugged. "I just always thought we were supposed to thank people who did favors for us."

"This is my house, Jess. She serves me because she's paid with shelter, food and money. She's not doing me a favor; she's doing her job."

Jess had to admit that he hadn't thought of it like that. He felt his face flush and was certain she would notice. He was relieved when she said nothing of it.

"You have a lot to learn about serving nobles," she said, her smile returning. "Don't worry; I'll teach you."

Father came over after a moment. "Jess, you all right, son?"

He met his father with a grin. "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, cause I'm gonna head home now."

Leslie spoke up then. "Are you sure you won't stay, Mr. Aarons—we have plenty of extra rooms."

Father acknowledged her kindness with a dip of his head but he dismissed the idea. "I've got a long journey ahead of me and the family's waiting."

Just then father did something he didn't expect. Kneeling down, he unfastened his belt and wrapped it around Jess waist, securing at his hip the knife his father had passed down to him. "You'll be needing it, son." He raised a finger to him in stern warning. "Don't play with it; it's to protect your friend. Find a teacher to instruct you and learn well its use."

He stood then and patted Jess on the shoulder. Realizing that he would be on his own from this point, Jess took the opportunity to throw his arms around his father's waist for one last hug. He felt father's big hand pat his back and as he took in one last deep breath of his father's earthy scent, he finally forced himself to let go.

He stared up into his father's weathered face.

_I love you, son._

Father didn't say it, but Jess found it there, in his eyes. "Take care, son." father told him and as Jess nodded, he felt hot tears slip down his face. He turned away as Lady Judy gently took father's arm, offering to show him out. Father turned with her and walked down the hall and as he left the castle Jess began to realize how much he would miss him. As he watched him go, it occurred to him that father probably didn't feel very comfortable in the castle. He supposed living his whole life in the open air of a farm was what made him so uneasy in soft surroundings.

Leslie nudged his arm, bringing him back to attention.

"Are you alright?"

Jess wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and nodded. "What do I call you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The girl that was here—Gretchen—she called you 'My lady.' What do I call you, Leslie? My Lady? Ma'am? Maiden Leslie?"

She giggled. "Why don't you just call me what you've always called me?"

Jess smirked. "You mean 'trouble'?"

Prince Terrian barked his agreement. That brought a big Leslie-grin Jess had missed for a long time. She playfully shoved his shoulder and they both laughed.

As she turned back to her room, she looked as if she expected the very door to obey her command and open. When it didn't, she turned to him.

"Ahem."

"What?"

She leaned close to whisper, although there was no one else in the hall. "You're supposed to open the door for me."

He rushed over, opening the door and standing back so she could enter. She dipped her head in appreciation as she strode into the room. Once inside, she motioned for him to follow and as he entered, he looked about. The floor was covered with a beautiful blue carpet that made a whisper of his footsteps. He felt as if he were entering a sacred temple. Everything in the room was exquisite: the tables, the chairs, bed, even the bookshelves were all lit in the soft glow of a fireplace. He found the entire sweet-smelling room an opulent comfort. Nothing in the place spoke of anything less than the finest quality. It was a room fit for a queen. Even the windows were of fine quality, with glass panes keeping out the cool night air.

As he watched the candlelight reflected a soft glow against the glass, Leslie glided over to a small table. Jess noticed her watching him and immediately joined her.

As they sat, he asked her where she expected him to sleep.

"We have a room prepared for you."

Jess smiled. "Is it like this one?"

"No, it's more blues and reds and greens—you know; boy's colors."

He hadn't meant the choice of décor, but he guessed she meant he was to have a room as fine as hers. He grinned at the thought. As Prince Terrian scurried about the floor, sniffing out all the new scents, Leslie watched him with delight. She pulled back a stray lock of golden hair and laughed when he plopped down in front of the fire to sleep.

Something occurred to Jess that had been bothering him. "Leslie?" She turned to him. "Why is your hair so long?"

Her brow twitched in confusion. "I'm a person of standing. All women of rank have hair like mine."

"But you didn't have hair like that when I knew you."

She shrugged. "I kept it short because I was trying to hide."

"But how did your hair grow so long? You were only gone from us for three days."

"Oh." She stood then and walked over to a dresser. From his chair, Jess watched as she retrieved something from a polished wooden box. She wore a mischievous grin as she crossed the room. He fidgeted when he saw it; Jess knew that look to mean trouble. She stopped in front of him and held out the object: a small comb.

"This is it," she said, as if that were explanation enough.

He gently took the comb, turning it over. "What about it?"

"This comb has magic." When he frowned in doubt, her grin grew. She took the comb and placed it atop his head. He sat as still as he could as she ran it gently through his hair, combing it downward, over his eyes. With every stroke of the comb, his brown hair lengthened. Jess laughed in wonder. He could no longer see her for all the hair in his face.

"It's too long," he snickered. "How do I get rid of it?"

She grab a fistful of his lengthened hair and turned the comb over in her other hand. Pulling tight, she threaded the excess through a loop in the back of the comb and pulled across. Jess felt it all fall away as a hidden razor sliced through his thick mane. He blinked up at his friend. She now held the excess hair in her fist. "That's how I did it."

Without a word, she walked over to the fireplace and pitched the excess hair into the hearth. She watched it flare in brilliance for a moment before returning the comb to its box and resuming her place at the table.

Jess grinned at her. "I think I'm gonna like it here."

"I think so too," she said, as she rested her chin on the backs of her folded hands.

He wanted to ask about what other items of magic she had but there were things he didn't yet understand about her. "Leslie, why did you lie to me?"

His question stole the mirth from her face. "Lie about what?"

He answered, even though he suspected she knew exactly what he meant. "Why did you lie to me about who you really are?" He hoped he wasn't treading on anything too painful.

Leslie twisted her fingers on the table top. The only sound in the suddenly quiet room was the soft crackle of the fire. Jess didn't press her for the answer; he just waited for her to say something. She wouldn't meet his gaze as she answered softly. "I was afraid."

"What were you afraid of?"

She sighed. "Well, at first, I thought if you knew who I really was, you would turn me in; there was a big reward for my safe return." She shook her head and picked at a spot on the tabletop. "The bounty hunters were paid handsomely when they finally got me here."

Jess felt his brows go up at that news. He had been rewarded but he never thought there could be more. "I wouldn't do that," he told her, wondering if even he believed his own words. "You're my friend, Leslie. Nobody in my family would do that to you."

She gave him an even look. "What about Brenda?"

Jess scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. "Well, I guess she probably would."

Leslie leaned in with a mischievous smirk. "Did she have a fit when she found out about me?" She seemed eager for the farmland gossip.

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "I think she still might be having a fit." Leslie's laugh fell in easily with his. Jess forced himself to be serious. He still had questions. "Why didn't you just tell me, if you were afraid? I wouldn't have told."

"I've never had a friend before." She shrugged. "I was afraid you wouldn't like me anymore, if you knew."

Jess sat back, dumbstruck. "Leslie, you have a whole castle of people to serve you. Aren't any of those people your friends?" She shook her head. "They seemed nice; you don't like them or something?"

Her face lowered as she answered. "They don't like me."

"Why not?"

"They're afraid of me."

He made a face. "That doesn't make any sense."

Leslie leaned back in her chair, glaring at him as she crossed her arms. "Do you remember what happened when you found out I'm a noble?"

"I…well, I…"

"Exactly," she said. "You ran away and I thought I'd lost you. I didn't think you were ever coming back."

He tried to find the words to apologize, but a knock on the door saved him. He jumped up, grateful for the excuse of answering. Gretchen came in, followed by two other girls about her age, all wearing the simple brown dresses of servants. The all carried trays with everything Leslie had requested. Jess felt his mouth water at the sight of the roasted chicken and plates of cheese and bread. He strode quickly back to his seat as they set the table. The plates were all white with gold rims, not the simple wooden dishes he was accustomed to and as he pulled up his fine chair, Gretchen poured him some tea from a flowered pot that looked to be worth more than his old house. He smiled at her and was surprised to see her return the grin. She stood back from the table then and curtsied to Leslie before leaving. Jess watched her go, patiently savoring the aroma of roasted chicken as the other two servant girls followed her out. As the door closed he turned back to his meal and immediately plucked up a steaming piece of chicken. Jess put it to his lips and blew, cooling the meat before tearing into it with his teeth.

Leslie watched him, her head resting on the backs of her hands. She smirked.

"What?" he asked, licking his lips. "Did I do something wrong?"

Still smirking, Leslie shook her head. "I just enjoy watching you eat."

"Well, stop it," he grumbled. "Eat something yourself, don't just sit there watching me."

Leslie snatched up a strawberry between her delicate fingers and ran it through the bowl of sweet cream. She made an exaggerated show of it as she took a bite. Jess grunted his satisfaction and tore into the chicken. It was moist and savory and he found the bread that accompanied it soft and light, like a cloud with butter. He stopped eating only long enough to take a gulp of tea and when he drained his cup, Leslie refilled it and resumed her placid watching. He wondered if he should try to make conversation, get her to talk about what his life would be like at the castle. "So, what's going to happen now," he asked around a mouthful of chicken.

"Well, bedtime is soon, I guess. I'll take you on a tour tomorrow and show you around."

Jess made an agreeable sound as he stuffed some cheese into his mouth. He gestured with the chicken as he chewed. "Is my room this big?"

"Yes," said Leslie, "all the rooms on this floor are like mine. Most are guest rooms but we arranged for one to be yours, permanently."

Jess finished the rest of the meal in silence. He simply couldn't think of anything else to ask. He reached for a few grapes and Leslie took another strawberry, yawning before she could take a bite. As he fingered a few grapes from the little glass bowl, Jess wiped his mouth with a fancy embroidered napkin and stood. "I guess I'd better go to bed now."

She rose and saw him to the door. "I'll show you to your room."

He popped the grapes in his mouth and let her lead him down the hall to a door on the other side. She opened it without preamble. The darkness was thick but as he padded across the carpet, Leslie picked up a candle and lit a few lamps.

The golden glow illuminated the finest room Jess had seen since Leslie's. He saw much the same furniture, but without the frills and lace. The carpet was a rich blue so exquisite, he felt as if he weren't meant to stand on such a beautiful floor. Jess wondered if he could possibly jump to bed from the doorway.

Judging by the size of the room, he doubted it.

The bed itself was massive, with four posts of polished dark wood. He hadn't slept in beds much of his life and the one at the inn was just big enough for a man his father's size. The one before him now looked as if it could hold his whole family with room left for Leslie and Prince Terrian.

"Like it?"

Jess stared in wonder at the magnificent bed. He tried to find words to express his gratitude but found that he could only nod.


	16. Chapter 16

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 16**

The next morning, Jess awoke to splendor. He lay awake in his bed, the soft sheets and down-stuffed pillows making him feel as if he were on a cloud. He smiled in satisfaction. His whole family could have fit in the bed, with room to spare, and he had it all to himself. Not a bit of him ached and he found that room was warm and dry in spite of the rain pouring down last night. Had he been at home, he would have found the place wet and smoke-filled with noises drifting up from the lower floor disturbing his rest.

But now he was awakening in a castle and as he lay perfectly still, he enjoyed nothing more than the sweet sound of silence.

The sound of a door closing caught his attention. He sat up just in time to see a servant woman glide from a door across his room. "Fresh towels, sir," she explained. Jess eyes flicked to the closed door as she left. He crawled from the bed and opened the door. Inspecting the room, he was delighted to see a bathtub and the towels waiting for him. He found the waters warm and sweet-smelling as he slipped down into the tub. Laying his head back against the smooth wood, he took in a deep breath and sighed.

As he thought of the strange events that had led him to live in the castle, his mind wandered—as it often did—to Leslie. She really was his friend—a true friend and a noble besides. He had not taken the time to consider the reaction of his sisters when they had heard the news that he was going to serve the nobility and live in the castle. Jess stifled a giggle. They were probably on the farm right now, working hard and getting dirty, while he was here in a tub, relaxing and getting clean. Life had a way of working out since Leslie had come. She was an incredible person, having been born to wealth and giving it all up to find a friend. He wondered where she was right then. Probably getting into some mischief and wishing he was there to join her. Jess smiled. He loved when she got that sparkle in her eyes, the one that told him she was up to no good. He was sure they'd be in trouble before the morning was over and, if not, then at least by lunch.

He knew he couldn't avoid such things, as living with Leslie was his job, but he really didn't mind at all. He was Leslie's only real friend and he was supposed to keep her out of trouble. He only wished he knew how to stop those thoughts from getting into her head. The door creaked open and Leslie poked her blond head in, as if in response to his thoughts. She grinned when she saw him. Jess smiled back and she took it as an invitation, striding into the room without delay. She went over to the chair and moved the towels so she could sit. Jess watched her watching him bathe and frowned. "What?"

She smirked. "Nothing," she said. "I just wanted to see you."

"Naked?"

She blushed and giggled. "No! You were supposed to be awake an hour ago. We let you sleep because it's your first day here, but we have to get going soon." She motioned towards the closed door. "Breakfast is already over."

"Well, what, I don't get to eat cause I slept late?"

"It's not that, Jess, it's just that we have a lot to do." Her mischievous smirk widened. "If you're really hungry, though, I can have the servant girls bring you something."

He considered his current state and felt his face reddening. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Leslie."

"I didn't think so either." She straightened the skirt of her blue dress, the one with the white winged horse on the front. Jess liked that dress. As he scrubbed himself with sweet smelling soap, he watched her as she ran a hand back through her golden hair. It was tied in back with a single white ribbon, like when he saw her before, when he ran away. He wondered if she always dressed so well.

"So," he asked when she finished her primping. "What's so important about today?"

"You're here today."

Jess smiled at her compliment. He couldn't wait to explore the castle and meet everyone. Leslie chided him to hurry up and he threatened to splash her if she didn't hush. As he finished bathing, Leslie stepped out of the room. Jess stepped out of the bath, wrapping a towel around himself. As he watched from the doorway of the bath chamber, Leslie flung open the doors to the wardrobe and pawed through clothes. She seemed to be looking for something. Jess couldn't imagine what it could be, but he had learned not to question her, to just let the surprises come as they would.

In spite of having bathed with him before, Leslie respected his privacy and kept her back to him as he dried himself. He wrapped the towel around his waist then and told her she could look as he sat on the bed. Leslie turned to him and ushered him over.

"What, you gonna pull my towel away?"

Her reddening cheeks rounded with her smile. "No, but if I did, I would also lock you outside."

"That's not funny, Leslie."

She shrugged. "I suppose not."

He came over but kept a wary eye on both his friend and the door. Leslie held up a bundled set of clothes. "These are for you."

Jess took them, holding them out. A deep blue shirt that matched Leslie's dress was complimented by a smooth black vest and matching trousers. He wondered how he would look in such fine clothes and found himself laughing inwardly. He gestured to the door. "Um…do you mind?"

Leslie rolled her eyes at his newfound modesty and left the room while he got dressed. Jess was surprised to find the clothes were all his size. He also found a pair of black boots in a lower drawer of the wardrobe and slipped into them. He stood tall in the outfit, running a hand down the front of the buttoned black vest. It was fine wool, like the rest of the outfit and fit him quite well. Jess wondered at how they could know his size before he came to live with them. None of the clothes itched as he expected they would and they seemed the softest garments he had ever worn. Jess knew the grade of the wool was much better than his family was accustomed to and he felt a shiver of guilt at leaving them in squalor. Then he remembered the money they were to be paid for his absence. Jess marveled at how he was more valuable to them when he wasn't around.

As he opened the door, Leslie greeted him with a smile. "Why, Master Aarons," she mocked, looking him over, "You look positively dashing."

He twisted his booted foot in place as he studied the floor. "You shouldn't say things if you don't mean them, Leslie."

Her slender fingers lifted his chin and her bluish-green eyes seemed to sparkle as she smiled. "I do mean it, Jess. The clothes suit you. This is who you were meant to be."

Jess found himself beaming at her, like he was somebody important.

She took his hand. "Come on, I want to show you around."

He let her lead him down a number of halls. She opened many doors, showing him the important places. Some halls they passed, she simply flicked her hand saying they didn't lead anywhere interesting, while others she ran through excited as a girl on holiday. He guessed she was on holiday. Jess found the place vast beyond anything he could imagine and wondered how he would remember all the places she took him.

They stopped by the kitchen for a short breakfast but were off again soon afterward.

Aside from the size of the place, Jess was amazed by how many people actually lived in the castle. There were dispensers, cupbearers, fruiters, a slaughterer, a baker, a brewer, a man to look after the table clothes, a wafer maker, a candle maker, a sauce cook, and a poulterer, each with boy helpers—and that was just for the kitchen! He couldn't even begin to think of all the other people—from the blacksmith to the stable boys and cleaners—who kept the castle running. There were librarians to attend to the books and people who changed flowers in vases when they weren't sweeping the floors.

He came to realize that the castle, although a home to Leslie and her family, was also a community in and of itself, a town of sorts in which lived more people than Jess thought one place could ever hold.

Jess had also assumed that he and Leslie would be the only children but there were a good number of others, of all ages. Leslie told him they were the children of servants and soldiers and that they were educated right alongside her. Jess found the idea appealing and he came to understand that servants had wives or husbands, as well as children, and that they were all part of the community. The guards had families as well and although he never imagined them as people who loved or married, Leslie told him that most of the serving women were the wives of the soldiers.

Leslie wanted Jess to learn everything about her life. It all seemed like a secret that she had kept for so long and now was at last allowed to share with him. He couldn't help but grin when he saw her angelic smile, her joy at having her best friend with her. Jess understood that joy and shared it with her.

He was still completely amazed by how many servants curtsied when she entered a room. Sometimes she only poked her head in long enough to judge whether a room was worth showing him before deciding it boring or unimportant and moving on.

The servants bowed or curtsied just the same.

Jess asked her where they would head next when the sound of a bell interrupted him. The peal seemed to widen Leslie's already prominent grin and as she grabbed his wrist and headed down a hall, he wondered what surprises awaited them next.

Whatever it was, Jess was sure he'd love it.

* * *

As Jess entered the chapel, he took in everything. It all seemed so much like the temple at home. The room was large enough for everyone to attend, with enough long high-backed benches for all the supplicants. Jess wanted to find a space in the back, and was rewarded with a seat behind two rather tall people. He was just about to sit when Leslie grabbed his arm and ushered him up to the front. He sighed and followed rather than objecting. It was her house after all. If she wanted some fat priest spitting on her as he shouted about damnation and eternal suffering, so be it.

As they slipped up to the front, he tried not to look conspicuous. Many of the castle staff whispered about him when they thought he couldn't hear. The young lady's new friend, they called him. Some referred to him as a shiny new toy for her to play with and took bets on how long it would be before she became bored with him and wanted another. He resented those comments, not for his own sake, but for Leslie's. She didn't treat people that way, using them and then throwing them away when they became uninteresting. He wished he could say something about it but as the bell rang for service to begin, a hush fell over the assembly.

Jess stifled a yawn. He knew what to expect from temple. Mr. Anderson, the priest of Westwood, often stood at the pedestal and preached about the dangers of magic and the nature of sin and redemption. He always got red-faced and spoke so passionately about the nature of evil and how everyone must fear the righteous wrath of the gods. He spoke rarely about peace and love, though some people thought he should. Jess thought they shouldn't risk angering Mr. Anderson. He never hurt anyone, Jess was certain, but he still feared the fat old priest, knowing that he possessed the command of magic of his own. He often performed house cleansings of evil spirits and healed people's souls, driving away what he said were demons. He carried the word of the gods and was respected by everyone for miles around. Jess just knew to fear him.

He knew that anyone in communication with the gods was dangerous.

As the bell rang, calling the supplicants to be seated, Jess sat down next to Leslie, her mother on her other side. Jess looked about nervously. He tried to sit still and fit in with everyone else as he awaited the arrival of the balding, fat-bellied priest.

As the tones of the summoning bell droned away, a few men in robes appeared. As they stood silently before the crowd, Jess wondered which man was the priest.

Then he noticed the bird sitting on one of their shoulders. It was a strange bird, not because of its size—it appeared quite small—but the color. It was extraordinary. Its feathers were lovely, a deep lavender that shimmered in the light.

As he leaned over to question to Leslie about the bird, it took flight, fluttering to the floor before the supplicants. It landed on the stage, vanishing into a puff of lavender smoke. As the smoke began to clear, Jess felt his mouth hang open.

Standing in the midst of the purple haze was a woman. Jess breath caught at the sight of her. She was the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her face was fair as Leslie's and stood out all the more framed as it was by her hair, black as raven's feathers. Parted in the middle, her shiny dark mane fell in gentle waves around her lavender covered shoulders. Her dress matched the feathers of the bird she had been. Her form was slender and delicate. But it was her eyes that riveted him with their subtle power. Jess had never seen eyes such as hers, the lightest blue they could be without blanching to grey. Jess swallowed hard when she looked at him. Her smile made him weak. Just as he wondered who she was, he heard the speaker announce the arrival of the priest. "Please welcome the Priestess of the Gods, Miss Julia Edmunds!"

Everyone applauded. Jess was stunned._ Priestess?_ Jess had never even imagined a woman priest. He had never imagined a woman—let alone a priest—could be so beautiful. He had never imagined he would see someone so gentle-looking preaching the word of the gods. And he never imagined his face could get so red so fast.

Jess licked his lips as she gazed into his eyes. "Well," she said, her voice a wondrous melody of life, "I see we have someone new in our temple."

Jess swallowed several times. He couldn't breathe. She was looking right at him.

"Yes, ma'am" came Leslie's confident voice. Jess started. He had forgotten she was there. Leslie came forward, unafraid. "This is my friend, Jess."

Miss Edmunds' smile was wonderful. It matched the rest of her. Jess heard her introduce herself. His tongue felt thick. He couldn't respond. He just kept staring, lost in her light blue eyes. He felt a jab in his side that made him grunt. He looked over to see Leslie prompting him to say something. As his gaze roamed back to Miss Edmunds, he called out to her. "Ah, you sure make a pretty bird."

Everyone laughed, deepening his shame. But Miss Edmunds didn't laugh. She thanked him with a wonderfully warm smile. She looked around the room then. Jess was sure she would point out how his face glowed but she pretended not to even notice as she addressed the crowd. "Is everyone ready?"

Everyone nodded and several spoke up that they were. Jess tensed. He didn't understand what was happening but he knew something was wrong. One of the men in robes brought a stringed instrument to Miss Edmunds. She accepted it with a smile as she turned back to face the crowd.

She began to play. As her slender fingers plucked the wire cords, a docile tone sent a shiver through him and as the lilting cords wafted into the air, the entire crowd began to sing. Jess had never heard such a melodious sound in all his ten years. It lifted his spirit. Leslie nudged him again and as he turned to her, he saw that her mouth was open. He realized she was singing and that he should be too. He joined in, not knowing the words, but keeping his voice low so no one would notice. They sang three beautiful songs that morning, none of which Jess knew but all he'd never forget.

When the service ended, Miss Edmunds thanked everyone for coming and blessed them all in the sight of the gods.

Jess had never felt so blessed.

* * *

The tour of the castle resumed shortly after temple service. There didn't seem a place in the entire castle they didn't explore that morning and when they finally reached the end of the tour, Leslie was breathless. She said she wanted to bring him to all her secret places, the ones she never shared with anyone but classes were to begin soon. Jess remembered then that they were to take lessons in a variety of subjects and as much as he wanted to learn, he wanted to ask Leslie about Miss Edmunds, to learn more about her.

He couldn't do that of course; he didn't want anyone to know about his newfound love for her. Jess had never been in love, but he knew how he felt. He hoped he would see her again, and at the same time, he feared the certainty of his wish.

As Leslie led him down a somewhat familiar hall, he tried to put lovely Julia out of his mind. He decided that he would concentrate on his studies. That would help. He would work hard and read a lot and try his best to forget all about Miss Julia Edmunds.

As they reached the study room, Jess pulled open the door for Leslie, as was his duty, and as he followed her in, he saw Miss Julia Edmunds standing there waiting for them.


	17. Chapter 17

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 17**

Leslie smiled in warm greeting but Jess stood still as stone. He wanted to ask Miss Edmunds what she was doing in their classroom, but as the truth sank in, he didn't need to ask.

Miss Edmunds was their teacher.

"Why, Leslie, Jess, how nice of you to join us," she said in gentle reprimand.

Leslie gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Miss Edmunds—I was showing Jess around."

Jess sank back, not wanting to be the cause of Miss Edmunds aggravation. He wished Leslie hadn't blamed him for their being late. It was mostly her fault anyway.

"Well," Miss Edmunds said in that wonderful voice of hers, "Try not to be late again. It's not fair to the others."

Jess looked at the room, noticing for the first time how full it was. There were many desks with children their age sitting at attention. Leslie slid behind a desk and called for him to join her. He did so reluctantly and tried not to stare too much at Miss Edmunds.

"Now," Julia began, "Since you're late and you've missed more than a month of classes, would you please begin the next chapter, Leslie?"

She glanced down at the open book and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

As Leslie cleared her throat and began reading aloud, Jess let himself take in the sight of the beautiful creature in the front of the room. Her black hair shined like a raven's wings. She smelled sweet, like lavender flowers. Her lavender dress was slender, like her form, her voice as soft and smooth as she appeared. Jess watched, entranced, as she moved with delicate grace, like a bird in flight.

He didn't even notice Leslie had finished reading until she nudged him.

"Why don't you paint a picture?" Leslie whispered in delight. "It'll last longer!"

Jess looked away from her smirk. Leslie couldn't understand; she wasn't in love.

When they left the classroom, Jess allowed himself a long look at Miss Edmunds. She smiled and turned those lovely, light blue eyes to him. "I know it's your first day, Jess, but try not to be late anymore, okay?"

Jess wanted to apologize, but his tongue felt thick so he nodded instead. She smiled then and the world seemed wonderful. Jess had just worked up the courage to tell Julia how beautiful she was when he felt an insistent tug on his arm. He turned to see Leslie motioning for the door and as he glanced at Miss Edmunds, he saw that she was busy gathering books from her desk.

Jess wanted to offer his help but Leslie wouldn't allow him the privilege.

"We're going to be late again," she whispered and shoved him through the open door.

Jess stumbled along, snatching a fleeting glimpse of Julia before looking ahead. He had trouble concentrating on where they were going; he just kept thinking about Julia's beautiful eyes.

Leslie led Jess to a large training hall. As he entered the room, he flinched at the clash of metal and the grinding of stone. The place was huge. Its walls were bare of decoration; he found none of the paintings or tapestries displayed in other parts of the castle. What he did find were many soldiers practicing the warrior's craft. They trained themselves with a variety of weapons and Jess found he recognized several from the stories, including the battle-axe, halberd and quarter-staff. He was given simple tasks at first, such as polishing helmets, and sat at a long bench watching the soldiers and several of their sons and daughters practicing with wooden—and many times, metal—weapons. Jess was eager to join in, but the instructor told him that learning to maintain the equipment was just as important as learning how to use it. Jess had accepted the instructor's words, knowing from his father's lectures that it was true.

As intimidating as it was to be around the grunting and shouting of people twice his age, Jess was comforted to know that he wasn't the only young fighter; there were boys and a few girls, some older than Jess and some younger and although everyone partook of the maintenance work, the younger boys were only allowed to polish helmets. Jess often heard them whisper above the clash of weapons that they looked forward to the day they could graduate to more exciting tasks and although Jess would get his chance to train with the older boys soon, he still relished the opportunity to hold real helmets and work at new tasks. He knew that the things he was learning mattered and would one day be of use to him so he polished without complaint, stopping only occasionally to observe the fighters in their intricate dances.

Seeing the women fight was a revelation. Jess knew women only as domestics—except for Leslie. He never knew other girls could fight and be so good at it.

Leslie admired them as well, often leaning over from her seat next to him to comment on the way they held their swords, or swung an axe, pointing out various techniques and predicting which woman would fall on her behind because she held her weapon wrong.

"Balance," she said, "is the key in a fight."

Jess nodded as he went back to polishing. He tried not to laugh as a woman fell on her bottom—just as Leslie predicted. After he finished he set the helmet down between them. They had the whole bench to themselves for although Leslie was respected as a fighter in the training hall, she was still a noble and still feared by many. Jess was glad they could be alone but he kept feeling a pang of sorrow for Leslie every time he imagined her sitting on the bench, all alone before she met him. He was glad he could be with her now.

On the third day, they were allowed to train with swords. Leslie met him in the hall and when he saw her, he felt his spirit soar. She wore a training outfit, the same kind all the others wore: red hose covered her slender legs and led up to a padded leather tunic that protected her from the blows of the training swords. Her fall of blonde hair was pulled back and tied in a single thick braid—a cat's tail she called it. Women wore it when they fought to keep their flowing locks from blinding them at a critical moment. Jess liked how it looked on her. Turning shyly away from his open stare, Leslie cleared her throat, asking him as she straightened the sleeves of her white shirt, how she looked.

"Great" was all he could think to say. Jess knew she owned one of those outfits but had refrained from wearing it in front of him; she didn't want to flaunt it while he was stuck polishing helmets. Since Leslie wasn't training, she had stuck by him for three days, and now that the instructor agreed, they would at last begin "the real training."

Leslie plucked up two wooden swords and tossed one to him. He caught it, surprised by its weight and detail; it looked like a real sword. The blade was a solid piece of carved oak; the handle, the cross-guards, even the pommel all looked authentic.

"Leslie," he asked, his eyes roaming the length of the blade, "where did you get this?"

"I had a carver make it when I found out you were coming to live with me."

He smiled his thanks. "Where do I get one of those outfits?"

"I had one made for you a day ago. It's in my dressing room."

All the fighters dressed in a common room—one for girls, one for boys. Being a noble Leslie had her own private dressing room and being Leslie's best friend, Jess had told her of his mutual desire for privacy. She had respected his wishes by lending him her room.

When Jess came out, all dressed for combat, she was waiting on the bench. He called out to her. "Stand challenged, woman!"

Leslie smiled as she stood. "Don't worry, little boy," she laughed, "I'll try not to embarrass you in front of all these people."

Jess gripped his sword tight. He didn't want to take his attention from Leslie, but as he listened, he realized the room had gone quiet; everyone wanted to see their duel.

An empty space was cleared and as she raised her sword, Leslie spoke something in another language. When Jess frowned at her, she translated: "Prepare to die, little boy!"

Their fight began slowly, each walking around the other trying to get a feel for their opponent. They hadn't sparred in a long time and Jess wasn't sure he could defeat her.

Suddenly, Leslie came in hard and fast and Jess barely had time to block before she swung again, going for his leg. He deflected her next blow only to be met with a stab to his middle. Leslie scored the first point and although Jess felt nervous with everyone watching, he remembered well Leslie's instructions. He soon managed to get a point of his own. They each gained another point, putting them on even ground with two each.

The instructor called out that the next point would decide the match.

Without a single word of bravado, Leslie charged. The sharp crack of wood echoed throughout the great room as their swords clashed. Jess was forced back and as Leslie continued her twirling assault, he gave ground until their fight spilled out into the hall.

They moved swiftly, sometimes fighting, sometimes running, dodging servants and staff as they shuffled their feet and tried not to trip over carpets. No one stopped them and Jess hardly heard the shrieks of the fleeing servant girls as they rushed to get out of the way. He was so focused on the fight he barely had awareness of those around him as they continued out into the open ground of the inner courtyard.

Jess felt his muscles burning but he could see that Leslie was tiring as well. Her face was slick with sweat and her braid was starting to come undone. They had fought for almost half an hour and were reaching the limits of their endurance.

Jess knew the fight would soon end and he was determined to be the victor.

With a battle cry that gave even Leslie pause, he charged, swinging with all his might. She barely deflected the blow and tried to return the stroke but he dodged and launched a counterattack. They both jumped back, wary of each other. In spite of his determination, Jess sank to his knees, gasping for breath. Leslie was down too and leaning on her sword for support. Clutching the hilt of his own sword, he panted and asked if she wanted to call a truce. She nodded and let her sword fall so that the handle faced him. Jess briefly considered using the opportunity to finish her off, but he was in no position to take the advantage. Every bit of him ached and Jess doubted he could even stand, let alone swing his sword. He let it slip to the ground; he didn't want to win by deception anyway.

As they both sat back, Jess wiped his face. He looked about then, noticing for the first time the crowd they had attracted. Everyone was talking or pointing, most arguing about who should have won the match. Jess didn't care. He was too tired to wonder about anything and at that moment as Leslie started to laugh, Jess realized he was the winner because he had Leslie as his friend.

They soon bathed and were dressed for dinner, Jess trying to stretch the cramps out of his sore muscles as Leslie led him through a familiar set of halls. Soon they entered the dining room, a grand hall even larger than the training area. Jess saw a large table where sat Judy and Miss Edmunds, laughing as they spoke. He strode confidently towards the table. He knew what was expected of him and as he took his seat next to Leslie, Jess remembered the first day he had entered the dinning hall.

It was the first day of his new life and he was starving. Upon seeing the size of the dining hall, he felt his hunger replaced by apprehension. Jess was accustomed to a single table, unadorned, with a family surrounding him as they ate, talked and argued about all manner of things. Supper in the Aarons home was always a personable event and he never felt truly uncomfortable. Leslie informed him of some of what he could expect at her table but as he shuffled through the grand dining room, he felt completely unprepared. Soft music played from the side as servants brought dishes of fine foods and bottles of wine to the three tables. Jess didn't expect anyone else to be eating, but he saw three grand tables, arranged on different sides of the room. He looked about at the people in their fine clothes, Barons and Judges and Magistrates—important people all. He hoped he remembered all his manners.

As he stopped himself from wiping his nose on his sleeve, he followed Leslie like a stray puppy and recalled her admonishment to do as she did when he was unsure of something. Her presence was reassuring, but as they made their way to the head table, Jess still felt like he was being led to his execution.

Every bit of uncertainty fell away as he looked across the room and saw who was waiting for them.

Jess felt the world fall away. The main table was raised above the other two where the noble family and the lovely Julia Edmunds waited for them. As the music reached its crescendo, Jess was already gliding to her. Julia looked their way and he stopped short. His heart was pounding. He barely noticed Lady Judy rising to greet them and as she said something Jess didn't hear, he saw only Julia, heard only her soft voice as she gave a gentle reprimand about their being late.

He felt a jab in his side that made him grunt. Leslie was motioning for him to follow. She led him up a raised platform and behind the grand dining table. Jess continued to stare at Miss Edmunds. She didn't see him, just listened to Judy and delicately sipped wine, hearing to the Lady's concerns. Jess was aware that he should pull out Leslie's chair for her—he was her valet after all. He gripped the high-backed chair and slid it out for her but still he couldn't take his eyes off Miss Julia Edmunds.

Even when he heard the thump of Leslie's bottom hitting the floor, it took him a minute to realize that he had pulled her chair out too far. Blushing intensely, he stooped low to help her up, feeling mortified that Julia had witnessed his blunder. Leslie accepted his and Judy's hands and as they lifted her to her feet, she waved away their concern, all the while directing a hot glare Jess' way. He hid his blush with a lowered gaze and, keeping his mind to the task this time, positioned the chair properly. Leslie tugged it firmly into place and gestured for him to sit. As he did, he took Leslie's napkin and placed it in her lap, as he had been instructed. He had much more to learn about table manners, he knew, but Leslie would teach him. For now he watched as the servants glided about bringing in more food than Jess had ever seen in one place.

He watched the other guests, some he knew as captains of the guard, officials and even Mr. Bailey, eating and laughing and talking.

The only person missing was the Duke.

Jess leaned over and whispered his question to Leslie. "Where's your father?"

"Away on business," she whispered back. "He's gone most of the time."

Jess felt a sudden sorrow for Leslie. She had spoken with a wilt in her voice that told him of her regret. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, but Julia spoke to him. "So, Jess, how are you finding life at the castle?"

In his mind, he said: _Why, with Leslie's help, of course_. In his mind, everyone laughed at his wit and charm. In his mind, Leslie graciously patted his arm and Julia even smiled.

But all that came out of his mouth was, "Oh, I-I'm good."

Julia did smile, but no one laughed. He felt unworthy of her smile and noticed that Leslie wasn't too impressed either. He was just a peasant after all.

Jess occupied himself with his supper, feeling solace only in that it was the finest food he had ever tasted. He watched Leslie carefully, making sure not to slouch and choosing the forks and spoons Leslie used for the corresponding dishes. He had never in his life encountered such fine flatware; all of it looked to be polished silver and the plates were white with a gold rim, while his goblet seemed to be made of crystal. Everything at the duke's table spoke of wealth and opulence and while Leslie seemed at home in her finery, wielding the delicate instruments as easily as she had her sword, Jess fumbled with the flatware, dropping more than a few forks. Leslie assured him he would master the uses of all the fancy things, but Jess didn't think he would ever get used to them.

Fowl was common with the river and lake nearby, as were dishes of fish and Jess didn't often find foods he didn't enjoy. None of it was the simple meals he grew up eating but as time went by he discovered he had a taste for fine meals. As he took a bite of his supper, he tried to forget his first fumbling meal at the castle and concentrated on the present. He couldn't relive the past but he knew he could do better this time. Miss Edmunds could teach him about manners but he decided not to ask, as Leslie was his guide and he didn't want to offend her.

The meal went a little more smoothly than most and after almost putting his hand in a dish of sauce—and dropping only one fork—Jess decided not to look at Julia again for the rest of the evening, only glancing her way when she asked him a direct question.

It was difficult, but by the time he went to bed, his thoughts were almost completely free of the lovely Miss Julia Edmunds.

Almost.


	18. Chapter 18

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 18**

As time went by, Jess learned to school his feelings and found that he could ignore Miss Edmunds allure—most of the time. It helped him to immerse himself in his studies, not just to catch up to Leslie and the other students, but to be ready in case Miss Edmunds called on him. He had seen others called on and watched as their faces turned red when they didn't know the answer to her questions. Jess didn't enjoy their torment and was pleased to find that Miss Edmunds gained no pleasure from embarrassing her students.

Although she was kind to them, they still looked miserable when they sat back down. Having no desire to twist in the wind, Jess dedicated himself to being a good student.

He would be ready when Julia called on him.

Jess didn't call her Julia, of course; that was forbidden, like their love. He only called her by her first name on the frequent occasions he thought of her. During class, Jess often imagined saving her from horrible monsters and being rewarded with a kiss.

At first, he could only think of trolls attacking the lovely Julia, but as time went by, Jess learned of other things to pit against her: Ogres, dragons and giant snakes. They all held her captive and she would sometimes be enslaved by evil men, waiting for him to rescue her and that's when he would rush in, sword in hand and slay the beasts, setting her free.

Jess could tell by the whispers of some of the other boy students that they weren't so impressed with her; many complained about the workload and imagined Miss Edmunds being attacked by trolls too, but unlike his fantasies, theirs ended when she was devoured. They never let Miss Edmunds hear them of course but Jess couldn't help but listen to their whispered words. He even once heard some of the older boys guessing at what they thought Julia looked like without her fancy dresses.

Such talk made Jess seethe with fury and threatened to cost him his concentration.

He reminded himself of his promise and returned to his work, more determined than ever to impress Miss Edmunds.

It helped that the daily lessons were extensive. They covered everything from reading and writing to mathematics and history. While he didn't care much for math, Jess found that he loved the history lessons. They were full of stories from long ago, tales of great battles and brave heroes, evil monsters and fiends, and the noble struggle for freedom. Miss Edmunds was a great teacher, always speaking clearly and patiently reviewing points he didn't understand. She was very patient with him, never yelling, always encouraging. She would lean over his desk sometimes, her long dark hair hanging beside him as he wrote and the scent of her would make him so calm and excited at once. She would then whisper soft corrections in that smooth, silken voice of hers and Jess wished so much that she would hug him. He tried to get things right so as not to look too foolish, and often times she let him figure things out on his own, praising him on the rare occasions when he was right. The fact that her teachings reminded him of Leslie's certainly helped with the more difficult tasks. Jess was instructed to memorize the names of people whom he had never heard of before: wizards, knights and kings. Leslie was an expert, often correcting him in the proper pronunciation of the names of places, sites of ancient battles and cities that no longer existed. He could see the events in his mind when she spoke of them, the battles won and lost, the thrilling victories and the crushing defeats.

Of all he learned the most interesting were the people. He had never known any knights or kings and he found that they were very much like he expected: brave, strong, noble and proud. He remembered playing in the woods with Leslie, pretending they were heroes and fighting monsters and as silly as it seemed, Jess thought maybe he would one day be a real knight. Maybe he would yet win fair Julia's heart.

As time went by, the monsters he would send against her became more and more viscous. He never ran out of ideas because, as he was delighted to find, there were entire books on monsters and he soon found that dragons and ogres were just a few of the creatures that once roamed the land. There were things called wyverns—creatures like dragons, but smaller and meaner, with two legs instead of four and a venomous tail. Other creatures were more human, like were-spiders—half-human spider-creatures that lived in caverns below mountains and vampires, people of the night who drank blood.

Their element of humanity added to their fearsome nature and made them seem all the more frightening.

There were many other creatures, of course; friendly types like centaurs: half-human, half-horse people that inhabited wooded areas. Looking at the illustrations, Jess thought they were some kind of joke by the author, but Leslie insisted they really did exist. He doubted her and told her so.

"Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

Jess nodded agreeably but he still didn't believe in such things. He would have to see them first. When he told her this, Leslie suggested they might someday get the chance.

Leslie continued to show Jess around the castle and as the weeks passed, he became more familiar with the place. He learned many of the lessons Leslie had been taught her entire life, about etiquette and how to act properly at dinner. He always tried his best to keep up with Leslie in classes and Jess was grateful that she took some of her free time to help him catch up. He had so many books to read, he often spent his remaining hours pouring over them and eating while he read.

He often wondered if he would ever catch up.

The long walks through the castle halls helped stretch his legs between lessons. Jess followed Leslie to libraries with mountains of books where she showed him her favorites and made him promise to become acquainted with at least a few of them.

They spent many hours together, reading in that study, Leslie patiently guiding Jess through his history lessons. He watched her across the table, her hands folded in her lap as she quietly launched another question his way.

"How did the forces of Kaadon win against the army of orcs at the battle of Tel-Fenon?"

Jess frowned. He knew this one. "They, uh…fought really hard?"

Leslie giggled. "No." She smacked his knee. "C'mon, Jess, think!"

"I-I don't remember, exactly…"

Leslie sighed. "The forces of Kaadon outwitted their adversaries," she quoted from the book. Her voice sounded resigned, as if she thought she shouldn't have to explain everything to him. "Even though he was outmatched, Kaadon knew that orcs are stupid. He held the high ground but offered his surrender." She waited a moment, giving him a chance to finish, but he could only shrug so she continued her lecture with a patient smile. "Emboldened by the promise of the slaughter of a weakened foe, the orcs charged ahead, abandoning their defensible position behind the river and running right up into the well-defended positions of the knights." Her smile turned sly. "Kaadon's forces were well-trained and they held the high ground." She leaned close, raising a finger to mark her point. "Thanks to quick-thinking, Kaadon won the day and although his army suffered heavy casualties, the greenskins were completely wiped out in the fighting."

As Jess sat back, he breathed a deep sigh. He tried to imagine being at the battle of Tel-Fenon, facing the charge of all those monsters. Their courage was impressive, but even more impressive was Leslie's ability to remember all the details.

He had to do better, he knew. Leslie promised she would help and took him other places in the castle to forget his troubles. She snapped the book closed and stood, a smile lighting her face. "C'mon, I know the perfect place to help you relax."

As they ascended the stairway into the open, they looked out over the city below.

Jess squinted against the high wind and found that he could see for miles beyond the city. "I can't believe it," he breathed in silent wonder.

Leslie strolled over to the wall. Jess knew from her lessons that the separation she gazed through was called a crenellation and the large parts of the stone to each side were merlons. He came over to her and peered out across the sweeping vista. He could see the lake, glittering like a massive jewel. Leslie had promised to take him out on a boat trip one day. He wanted to ask her when but she surprised him with a question. "Why do you like Miss Edmunds so much?"

He blinked at her. "I-I don't like her. I just—" Jess could tell by the look she gave him that she wasn't convinced. He sighed. "Is it so obvious?"

"Oh yeah."

In spite of the cold wind, Jess could feel himself blushing. He stuffed his hands into his black wool pants as he turned away. "I don't know. She's just so… amazing." He expected her to laugh. She didn't. "I guess I don't really know why. Maybe if you told me more about her…"

He darted a look at Leslie. She had her back against a merlon. "She's what's known in the trade as an Enchantress."

Enchantress. Edmunds the Enchantress, Jess mused. It sounded right. "So, she enchants people?"

Leslie gazed out over the water. "No, not people; just objects. The green crystal she wears has some kind of magic. I don't know what it does though—she's never told me."

"So can she do other magic… stuff?"

She returned her gaze to him and smiled. "Like spells?" He nodded. "Yes. She's very good at it." Her smile widened. "Why, once, she even—"

A servant interrupted them, curtsying as she appeared from the stairway. "Begging my lady's pardon, but there's a visitor arriving." She glanced to Jess a moment. "You are both needed in the courtyard."

Leslie dismissed her. She turned to him and shrugged. "Duty calls."

Jess followed Leslie down the stairs. He wished he knew what she never got the chance to say, but he hoped he would get to ask more about Miss Edmunds.

The visitor wasn't there when they arrived. Jess was delighted to find that Miss Edmunds stood waiting for them. Jess was glad he looked his best. He ran his hand down the front of his fine black vest, appreciating the smoothness of the wool. The vest matched his pants and was made more vivid by the red shirt he wore underneath. Leslie picked it out that morning. Jess remembered her arrival in his room, wondering if she would visit him everyday before he awoke. Smiling, she pulled his shirt out of the wardrobe and asked if he would like to wear it. "I know you favor red," she explained.

"How did you know?" He didn't mind wearing blue to match Leslie's favorite dress, but he had always thought he looked better in red.

Leslie shrugged. "You always wire red shirts when we were on the farm."

Jess nodded with the memory; it seemed a lifetime ago. "Well, if you don't mind."

The red shirt contrasted well with his black vest and pants. Leslie said it made him look daring. Jess was glad; he wanted to look daring for Miss Edmunds. As his eyes feasted on her slender form, he noticed her hair was tied in a bunch to the side, left to hang over her shoulder. She wore her blue dress intermixed with turquoise—a fine look for a fine day.

He wanted to speak to her, but Leslie beat him to it. "Who's visiting?" she asked. She looked about, expectantly. "Where is he?"

Miss Edmunds pointed upwards. "He'll be along any minute now."

Leslie frowned for a moment, but as she thought about what Ms, Edmund told her, Jess watched her eyes light up. "Is he really coming?"

Julia nodded. "He's just about to arrive."

Leslie looked up expectantly. Jess followed her gaze, shielding the bright glare of the sun with his arm. He couldn't see anyone. He glanced to Miss Edmunds to see her staring upward as well. Jess couldn't imagine who they could be looking for; it was if they expected whoever it was to simply drop out of the sky.

Then he saw it. Coming out of the sun, a dark image descended, framed by the blinding light. Jess staggered back, gasping as the thing grew closer. It flew towards them with alarming speed, coming to rest near them on the grassy field. Jess stared in wonder.

It was a horse.

A white winged horse.

He couldn't help but stare. A horse with wings. It was the most amazing wonder he had ever beheld. The man atop her dismounted and Jess could see clearly the black tunic he wore bore a bright star—the symbol of a knightly order.

A small crowd of servants had gathered to see the visitor. They all spoke about him, the girls whispering how handsome he looked when he removed his helmet. As he came closer, Jess realized the man was larger than most he had seen. His thick brown hair flowed almost to his shoulders as the wind blew across his stern face. Jess looked to Leslie to ask who he was and found she was staring at him. A bright smile lit her face.

She wouldn't take her eyes off the man and before he could ask who he was, Leslie answered his question in a breathless whisper. "Sir Thomas."

Jess' browed twitched. He had never seen such a look on Leslie's face. Her goofy grin was ridiculous and the way she stared at the knight reminded him of the way his sisters would stare at a boy they fancied.

The answer hit him like thunder.

Leslie was in love.

While Jess stood stunned the knight drew his sword, the clear ring of steel filling the air. He pointed the tip of the fine blade at Miss Edmunds. Jess swallowed. Julia didn't move, didn't speak. Her beautiful face displayed no fear, nor anger. She just watched him calmly as if expecting nothing.

"This works well," Thomas said.

Miss Edmunds at last smiled. "I'm glad you like it." Her eyes roamed the length of the blade. "I see you haven't managed to break it yet."

The grim looking knight returned her grin. "I'll try harder, next time."

"I'm so glad you've returned, Tom."

He strode forward and seized her around the waist as she tried to speak pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing his lips to hers in a deep kiss. As Julia moaned against him, Jess felt his jaw drop. Leslie rolled her eyes. Jess averted his. After a moment, Julia managed to push the bold knight away. She swatted his armored shoulder. "Not in front of the children, Tom!"

Jess bristled at the knight's brashness and he felt his face heating uncontrollably at Miss Edmunds referring to him as a "child." He glowered at the placid look Leslie was sending Tom's way. Jess decided he didn't like this man. Not one bit.

When he returned his glower to Thomas, he watched as he stroked Miss Edmunds raven hair. "I couldn't help it," Jess heard him whisper. "I've seen not beauty in so many months."

Julia crossed her arms and gave him a wry look. "Surely a knight of your charms must have found some fair lady in need of rescuing."

He shook his head. "I've seen only the enemy," he whispered, "and orcs aren't that pretty."

"Well, you _smell _of orc," Miss Edmunds complained. "Go bathe."

Jess couldn't help but snicker at her comment. _Good girl_. He knew his Julia was too clever to be beguiled by such paltry words. He decided he would teach the knight a thing or two about manners. As if on cue, the man turned to them and smiled Leslie's way.

She beamed.

"Hello, Thomas."

Jess couldn't believe how she fawned over this ridiculous man. He felt his blood heat at Leslie's shy smile and Jess clenched his jaw as he watched the knight kneel before his friend. Thomas daintily took up her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. Leslie giggled as her face turned a bright red. "Are you going to be staying long?"

He shook his head and her face fell. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I'm afraid I'll have to be moving on soon." Jess tried to hide his delight behind a frown. He didn't think he did a very good job. "But I suppose I could stay long enough to train you."

That brought the grin back. Jess didn't understand what he meant but he was sure it was something Leslie wanted. He wasn't sure if it was something he wanted. The big man turned to him then. "Who's this?"

"Who?" She seemed to notice Jess for the first time. "Oh! This is Jess. He's new."

Thomas extended his hand. "Hello, Jess." Jess clasped arms with the man and tried not to look away as the knight smiled. "Get my horse to the stables, will you?"

As Jess face went red, Leslie barked a laugh. "No, Thomas," she laughed, "Jess is my new valet. He's supposed to keep me out of trouble."

The big man straightened. "I see." His gaze slid back to Jess. "Well, then, you have my sincerest sympathies."

"Oh, very funny," Leslie grumbled. "Why don't you go wash up—Miss Edmunds is right; you do smell."

He glanced back to Miss Edmunds and Jess saw her nod that it was true. He laughed then and stepped back. "By your command, m'lady."

He dipped a sweeping bow to Leslie and strode off, giving his horse a parting scratch behind the ears and Julia a parting kiss. A boy from the stables led the winged creature away and Jess watched Leslie watching the strange knight depart. She sighed wistfully.

Jess harrumphed. "Well, that guy is really—"

"Wonderful?" Leslie's eyes had a strange glint. Her grin was silly.

Unsure, Jess only nodded, wondering why she looked so goofy.


	19. Chapter 19

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 19**

They didn't see the knight again for the rest of the day. Jess was glad of that but he couldn't stand they way Leslie went on about him. "Thomas once said this and Thomas once did that" was all he heard from her. He wanted to talk about something, _anything_ else but she wouldn't allow him to lead her away from the subject, so Jess resigned himself to sitting on her bed, listening patiently to her annoying rhetoric.

"And he slew all the ogres in the tribe that day—practically by himself."

Jess nodded absently. He hadn't really needed to listen to Leslie's tenth tale of the brave Sir Thomas to know that she loved him. He wanted to tell her she was being too obvious but he remembered how he felt when she pointed out his feelings about Julia.

"Jess, am I boring you?"

He blinked. "I'm sorry, Leslie. I was just uh…" He let the implication hang there.

"Well, you ought to tell me if you think I'm boring."

He smiled in spite of his boredom. "You're not boring me, Leslie."

She got that look on her face, the one that told Jess he wasn't fooling her. When she folded her arms and twisted her mouth, Jess found he had to turn away, lest her displeasure burn right through him. "I just don't see why you like this fellow so much."

He could tell by the moment it took her to respond, he had caught her off guard. She unfolded her legs and slid to the edge of her bed. "I don't like him that much…"

It was Jess' turn to give her the disbelieving look.

"I do not!" she cried. "I just think he has great adventures—that's all."

"Right," was all he could say.

"Well, its not like I _don't_ like him—I've known him since I was little."

Jess sighed. "Leslie, you're in love with him." She started to shake her head in protest, but he folded his arms and fixed her with a stern gaze. "Just admit it."

She bit her lip as her cheeks reddened. "Is it that obvious?"

He nodded.

"Please, don't tell him," she begged, grabbing his arm in a desperate bid to ensure his silence. "I couldn't bare it if—"

He pulled his arm away. "All right, all right, I won't tell, I promise!"

She seemed to relax a bit. "I really want to tell him," she whispered.

"Then why don't you?"

Leslie scoffed. "Oh right, and why don't you just tell Miss Edmunds you're in love with her?"

Jess felt his face heat, but he laughed away the embarrassment. "Maybe I will. She might like it," he mused. "She might even marry me."

That brought out Leslie's wonderful laugh. He felt emboldened by the sound and added a bit more. "Well, you never know; you could end up being Tom's bride."

That took the mirth right out of her. Leslie stared at him a long time. She didn't frown or glare or even look angry. She looked defeated. "Right…"

Jess chuckled, the last of it dying out as he realized he had said something to upset her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "I just didn't think it funny."

She moved away and he followed, reaching out to her.

"Leslie?"

She shook his arm away. "I don't feel like talking anymore, Jess." She heaved a great sigh. "Please, just leave me alone?"

Jess wanted to ask what he had done to upset her, but by the look on her face, he decided it wasn't a good idea. He left the room, and as he closed the door behind him, he detected the soft crying of his best friend.

Dinner that night was a grand event, as it always was at the castle. Jess paid more attention to his etiquette lessons, picking the right fork more times than not and while Sir Thomas sat next to Julia, it didn't bother Jess like he expected. Leslie put on a brave face for the dinner guests, smiling and talking, but generally acting somewhat reserved. Jess knew Leslie was still upset about something, but he also knew no one else could tell.

As Sir Thomas expounded on his most recent adventures, Jess only half-listened. They were tales to rival Leslie's fiction to be sure, but he couldn't enjoy them. All Jess could do was wonder what he'd done to upset Leslie. The evening soon ended and Leslie retired to her room, not bothering to wish Jess a good night. He stopped to watch her enter her chambers. He reminded her that word around the castle was that her father was returning soon and that brought a distant smile to her beautiful face. It disappeared just as quickly and as she slipped into her room, Jess went to his chambers, still worried over his friend and still not having a clue as to what he had done wrong.

The next morning brought him no answers, though Leslie's mood had improved somewhat. Everyone else seemed to be in an excited state. The Duke was on his way home and as Jess worked at his lessons and talked with Leslie, he thought constantly about the Duke, the man who had brought him into his home.

It would be good to see him again.

Before he would arrive, however, Jess wanted to talk with Leslie about what he had done. He still wasn't sure he could handle the answer but before he could ask, there came a knock on the door and at Leslie's call to enter, Tom strode into the room.

His smile was infectious as he looked down at the two of them. "Ready for training?"

Leslie shared a look with Jess and they both nodded.

It was time to begin.

They circled him slowly, swords held ready. Prince Terrian stayed back, looking like he wanted nothing more than to bite his legs again. A swift kick had taught the dog to stay away from him when he was fighting. Leslie was on his left and widening her arc while Jess went to his right, commanding his attention. Just as they planned, both kept out of reach and were mindful of the length of his swords.

Tom grinned.

That cunning smile gave Jess pause. It was the same smirk Leslie used when she was up to something. He swallowed hard and let his gaze shift to her for a moment. She was keeping her eyes on Tom and Jess knew that if she saw him not paying attention she would not be pleased; he was supposed to keep his eyes on Tom, not look to her for comfort. He didn't think she ought to blame him though; they were facing an implacable foe and he needed reassurance.

As they carefully stepped to his sides, Tom twirled his swords.

Jess knew that he was loosening his wrists, preparing for the attack they were about to unleash. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. He knew there was no way they could win.

They had been at him for hours. When they began, Leslie chided him to take things slow and plan his moves but he was so excited about the prospect of training with a real knight, he hardly heard her. He had already gotten himself killed several times that day and Leslie had been left with trying to defeat Tom alone. Although she was the greatest swordfighter he had ever known, Jess had been forced to watch as she was taken apart with relative ease. Tom often slaughtered her with casual grace, using his superior size and strength to full advantage. He liked to tease her, playing games about how many times he could strike her bottom before he slew her. He was humiliating her, Jess knew, but he knew it was to teach him the cost of failure and the value of teamwork.

Jess had watched his moves after that, making sure to follow Leslie's instructions carefully, lest they both be killed. Jess knew that Leslie would be the one to pay if he got himself slain and that fact made him even more careful. He didn't like the idea of anyone teaching him a lesson by smacking Leslie's bottom and promised himself that he wouldn't let it happen again if he could help it.

Jess gasped. The heat was oppressive. There was also the discomfort to consider. The sweat covering his body was making him itch and he was sure he already had a wealth of bruises under his padded-leather tunic. As grateful as he was that they were only using wooden practice swords, Tom's strength made every blow hurt. As he glanced at Leslie one more time, he saw her pause. The wind blew quietly through her golden hair. The sun glistened on her sweat-soaked skin and he watched as trickles of moisture ran clear tracks through the dirt on her face and neck. She didn't smile.

As her gaze flicked to him, he knew instantly what she was thinking.

It was time.

Yelling at the top of his lungs, Jess charged. His downward stroke was perfect, as was his balance. Tom looked at him and swung his sword. Jess cut off his battle cry and leapt back, narrowly missing the tip of Tom's sword as it whistled past. The crack of wood made him look up again, and he saw Leslie spinning through one of Tom's attacks.

They had failed. Jess thought by coming in from different sides and distracting him, they might be able to catch him by surprise. He was wrong. Tom hadn't been fooled and Leslie was now trying to escape from close combat while Jess was too afraid to rush in to help. He didn't want to be reckless again.

Just then, he saw Leslie spin to the ground, her sword flung away by the sheer power of Tom's swing. On her hands and knees, her back to him, Jess knew she was finished. Tom raised his sword above his head, intending to cleave her in two.

Jess was there in a flash, his sword coming up to block the blow. As Tom's sword crashed down on his, the sheer power threatened to overwhelm him. Jess trembled as the vibrations sent pain flowing into his arms and down his legs. He knew that if Tom weren't holding back, he would have been crushed under the force of the strike.

As he struggled to fend off Tom, Leslie scrambled across the ground toward her sword. Tom caught sight of her and shook Jess off balance. He was nearly thrown across the lawn by the power of Tom's simple gesture and as he spun to the ground, he had to sink to his knees to keep from falling over completely. As he looked back over his aching shoulder, he saw with some satisfaction that Leslie had reached her sword. Tom was striding towards her though and Jess hoped he wouldn't get to her in time. She was just reaching for the hilt, extending her fingers in a desperate attempt to grasp it when he planted his boot heel on her behind and gave a firm thrust of his leg. Leslie cried out, flying awkwardly over her sword and landing facedown in the grass some distance away. She hadn't been slain, but she was still down. Jess felt weak from the fighting but he knew he had to help her.

Panting, he rose to his feet and faced Tom with all the courage he could muster.

Tom turned from Leslie's prone form to Jess before looking back down to her, laughing as Leslie spat a mouthful of grass. "Hold on, Leslie, this will just take a second."

Jess burned with fury. Tom had just made Leslie eat grass—like a cow! He felt the need for revenge boil inside him. He growled through gritted teeth the words he felt could not be denied, "Come and meet your doom!"

Tom smiled and obliged. Jess watched as Leslie climbed to her feet and ran towards them, snatching up her sword as she came. Tom was upon him now, towering over him with such fearsome presence that Jess couldn't see Leslie anymore. He brought his sword up, preparing to cleave Jess in two. Jess watched the sword rise, wary of the other, when Tom suddenly fell to his knees, sticking Jess in the gut and flipping his other sword over so Leslie was impaled behind Tom as she came to the rescue. Jess and Leslie stared at each other with wide eyes, neither able to fully comprehend their fate.

They were both dead.

Clutching their stomachs as he withdrew the swords, they both collapsed to the ground. They lay there with their heads against the dirt, gasping for air, exhausted from the workout and trying their hardest not to laugh. Prince Terrian rushed in then and licked the sweat from their filthy faces. Jess laughed, barely able to muster the strength to push him aside and as the excitement of the battle wore away, fatigue settled in and stayed. Jess was as tired as he had ever been. Every muscle in him burned like never before. He didn't think he had the strength left to lift his head. Tom sheathed his wooden swords and walked over to him.

Grabbing Jess by the waistband of his trousers Tom lifted him up with a grunt. He did the same to Leslie, holding them both at his sides, their feet dragging the ground as he walked away. Prince Terrian yapped at him but kept his distance as he made his way across the lawn. Jess waited for him to stand them upright but when he saw Leslie struggling, he realized they weren't being helped to their feet.

"Tom," she begged. "No! Don't do this—please!"

Jess didn't understand the source of Leslie's distress but he understood well enough her tone: She was scared. He looked around and saw some of the garden servants pointing at them and talking amongst themselves. A few snickered at their predicament. They obviously knew more about what was happening then he did. Leslie also knew. He called out to her. She looked over at him, panic in her eyes. He kept his voice calm. "What's he doing?"

"We're prisoners, Jess." She looked up at Tom and kicked her legs, struggling futilely against the big man's grip. She gave up after a moment. "He means to execute us."

"Exe-execute…?"

"Means 'kill you,'" Tom answered, a little too cheerily, Jess thought.

He didn't believe it. He had already been slain in fair combat—they both had. How could you execute dead people? Leslie answered his unspoken question.

"We're not dead yet, Jess." She glared up at Tom. "He only wounded us."

Jess realized she was right. Earlier, Tom had explained that a gut wound, while painful, might take some hours to kill you. He thought that Tom might be showing them mercy by giving them a quick end, but the look on Leslie's face as she resumed her struggling told him it would be anything but a mercy. Jess looked ahead, trying to see where they might be taken. Then he spotted someone he desperately didn't want to see: Miss Edmunds.

To his horror, Leslie called out to her. "Miss Edmunds! Help us!"

She calmly strode over to them, a bemused smile on her beautiful face. Jess lowered his head, not wanting her to see him carried like a rabbit for supper. Leslie cried out for help again and Jess felt his face go red. Tom stopped as a shadow blocked out the light. Jess could smell her perfume. She was standing right in front of them. "Well, well," she mused in that wonderful voice, "What have we here?"

"Help us!" Leslie pleaded. She struggled again but Jess didn't even look up. He couldn't face the beautiful Miss Edmunds as a helpless prisoner.

"Tom," she laughed, "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice still rang of the sweetest of melodies. "You won't hurt the children, will you?"

Jess felt his ears burning. He didn't like being called a child—especially by Miss Edmunds. He could detect a hint of mirth in her voice that deepened his shame.

"Well, Julia," Tom explained, "I have a few prisoners here need executing."

"Help us," Leslie cried. "Don't let him do this again, please!"

Jess almost told Leslie to be silent. He had never been so close to saying something mean to her but she was begging like a little girl. She needed to stop making things worse and hope Miss Edmunds would go away and forget all about this mess.

"I'm sorry," she said "but you know the rules." Miss Edmunds stopped speaking for a moment. Jess kept his head down but he knew she was looking at him. "I'm afraid young Jess doesn't know the rules." He almost died when she spoke his name. "Maybe you should let him go."

There was a moment of silence. "No," said Tom, "I think this is a good way for him to learn."

Leslie renewed her struggles. "Help us, Miss Edmunds, please," she begged, kicking and squirming. "Use your magic!"

Tom chuckled. Jess was just about to shout for Leslie to be quiet when Miss Edmunds asked a question that made Tom stop laughing. "Really, Tom, is this how you intend to treat _our _children?"

"Our-our chi-children…?"

Through the shame and humiliation, Jess could feel the ground connect under his feet. Tom's grip loosened and he saw Leslie give him a swift kick in the shin. He cried out and released them both to grab his leg. Leslie was off like an arrow, shouting thanks to Miss Edmunds and yelling at Jess to run. He tore off after her, his face still red as a beet.

As they slipped into the nearest doorway, they made sure to close it behind them. They slumped against it and slid down to the floor, panting. Then they laughed.

"Leslie?"

She looked over at him. The candlelight made her sweaty face glow. Her eyes were half-closed as she caught her breath. "You want to know what he would have done to us."

He nodded.

She gulped a breath. "He would have tossed us both in the water trough."

Jess blinked. "What are you talking about? What water trough?"

"The one for the horses." She paused to catch her breath and brushed her matted hair back off her face. "He would have taken us to the stables and dropped is in the water trough."

Jess almost laughed, but his curiosity kept him from even smiling. "Why would he drop us in the water trough?"

"Because we would have been covered in mud."

"Alright," he whispered as he gasped for breath. "Why would we be covered in mud?"

She smiled a little. "Because he would have taken us to the pig pen first." Before he could ask what she meant by that, Leslie waved her hand and continued. "He would have tossed us in the mud pit and when we were both covered in muck, he would have taken us to the stables and dropped us in the water trough to wash us off." She noticed the look on his face and explained. "Mother wouldn't let us back inside without a soak to wash out the filth."

Jess laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You have one sick friend."

"I agree," she laughed. "But he didn't get us this time."

"Did he ever do that to you, that dunking thing?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She smiled. "Since I could walk." She shook her head and scratched behind her ear. "Every time he beats me in my lessons, I get dunked." She giggled.

Jess didn't laugh. "That's awful; I thought he liked you."

"He does." She laughed again. "He just likes dunking me more."

"Well, he didn't get you this time, thank the gods."

"Thank Miss Edmunds," Leslie corrected.

"Well," he sighed, "I'll have to remember to thank her for saving us."

Leslie gave him a teasing smirk. "Maybe you could thank her with a kiss."

"Yeah," Jess agreed. "Right after _you_ kiss Tom."

She swatted his shoulder but it was a half-hearted attempt. He laughed it off and watched Leslie as she tried to stand. Jess got up to help her but she told him to sit. He took her arm and stood, refusing to let her test unsteady legs. "Maybe you should sit for a while."

"I can't," she panted. She moaned as she rubbed her rear. "Tom got me good."

Jess nodded. He had seen her get her bottom whacked by Tom's sword and had even taken a few on his own. He was grateful for the padded tunics they wore, though he wished they had some padding in their seats. He offered Leslie a reassuring grin.

"We'll get him next time, Leslie."

She tried to agree, but could only manage a tight-lipped smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 20**

Leslie sat by her windowsill, watching the rainwater running in streams, like tears down the outside of the glass. As the thunder crashed overhead, Leslie saw a tiny bug swept down by the water and wished she could wash away her troubled thoughts so easily.

As P.T. cowered in her arms, shaking in terror, her thoughts turned to Jess and how she had not yet told him her secret. She enjoyed playing with him, sharing her secrets and dreams but there were some things she knew he wouldn't understand. In her mind she tried to justify her decision, to tell herself she was sparing him some pain.

Leslie reprimanded herself. She knew that she wasn't sparing him anything; she was just sparing herself from having to tell him. As she ran a gentle hand over her trembling dog, she considered the reason she hadn't told him was because she had so much fun with him. She remembered the day they had met, last autumn, when they began to work the farm. She smiled at the memory of his family, such nice people. Jess was her favorite, her best friend. They were always together in the woods, or the fields or staying up at night and whispering to each other about their secret hopes and dreams.

Since coming to the castle they had spent much more time together. Many months had passed and as they shared their days, Leslie found that Jess' wide-eyed wonder at her world made everything seem better. She had become so accustomed to her life that she often didn't realize just how wondrous it really was; Jess often brought out the joy that she had come to neglect. She had never had a friend like him. Throughout the winter they told stories beside roaring fireplaces after having running snowball fights through the courtyard. She had never in her life fought with snow and she found the experience of pelting Tom most enjoyable. Jess refused to throw any at Miss Edmunds, but Leslie directed a thick slush-ball at her backside and when it smacked her in the bottom and she spun around to see who threw it, Leslie pointed at Jess. All he received from her was a stern lecture about how to properly treat a lady, but Jess stood red-faced the whole time.

He secretly promised Leslie he would pay her back for her mischief. Leslie laughed. Tom knew the truth of course and teamed with Jess to punish her but the winter passed and nothing ever came of it.

When spring arrived and the blankets of snow gave way to the songbirds and sunshine, Jess finally got his revenge. They were playing one of their simple board games, one Leslie had taught him over the long winter and one he had picked up quickly. While Jess was a fast learner, to Leslie, who had played the game since she could walk, he still wasn't much of a challenge. She was sure she had him beat when he declared himself the winner. She frowned at his premature boast and told him it wasn't yet over. "I have you beat, Leslie." His grin was making her anger bubble. He swiped a hand back through his hair and leaned forward to whisper to her, "I'll bet you anything that I have you in three moves."

She glared at his arrogance. "Name your wager."

He smiled as if he had been expecting her to say exactly that. He scratched his neck and seemed to consider her challenge. "Loser jumps into the pond in the courtyard after the game."

"Excellent," she agreed.

"Stark naked."

Knowing she had him beat, her smile widened. "Even better." The thought of Jess jumping into the courtyard pond naked was enough to make her giggle.

The bargain struck, play resumed. Somehow—Leslie still wasn't sure exactly how—Jess had slipped out of his corner and killed her king. Leslie's smile fell away.

Jess had won.

They both stood in the courtyard that very night—Leslie wrapped in only a towel—surrounded by more than a dozen servant girls and quite a few boys. The girls held her clothes, wrapped in a bundle ready to help dry and dress her when she finished but the boys were just there for the show. Leslie bit her lip as she looked at her eager audience. Her face went red as she saw all the boys and girls watching her, their grinning features softly illuminated by the candlelight. Leslie winced at all the wide eyes watching her, freckled faces she had known since birth, all anxiously waiting for her to disrobe.

Leslie took a deep, steadying breath, which turned into a sharp gasp as she felt Jess yank away her towel. She staggered forward a step, completely exposed.

"Get a move on!"

She felt a hand give her bare rump a sudden smack, making her jump. She squealed as the girls giggled and the boys cheered. She shot a hot glare at him and started toward the lake followed by the girl's continuing laughter and the approving whistles of the boys.

She had never felt so exposed, so embarrassed, but as she made her long walk to the pond she didn't attempt to cover her bareness. _Let them look_, she told herself, throwing her head back and marching along. _They won't shame me. _Leslie moved slowly, feeling all their eyes on her naked rear end. She didn't stop, didn't look back to acknowledge the comments about how round her bottom was, how fine it looked in the moonlight or the scarlet mark they said they could see where Jess' hand had made contact; she just kept her bare shoulders back and her blonde head held high. She was a noble. She was better than to make any vain attempts to rush through this and limit her humiliation at the expense of her dignity.

As she strode resolutely through the moonlit courtyard, Leslie realized that in spite of what was happening to her, she couldn't help but grin at the silliness of it all. Jess was getting his revenge for scolding she had arranged about properly treating ladies. It seemed that the lecture wasn't severe enough. Leslie had resolved to find a way to pay him back for this but she found that she had a hard time thinking of anything but how much she wanted to cover up. By the time she neared the shore, she could barely stand her embarrassment.

When she at last reached the shore and her toes dangled over the dark water, she winced at the cold. Leslie paused then to have thoughts about drowning Jess. Then she grinned with an evil thought. She might not kill him, but she would definitely pull him in when he came to help her out. She was nude and could dry off and dress, but he would have to trot all the way back inside, dripping wet, and peel off his soaked clothes before being allowed to slip into something warm.

Thoughts of her impending revenge swirling through her mind, she forced the smile off her face and turned back to view her waiting audience.

Jess stood at the center of the knot of servants, his arms folded across his chest. Straining to keeping a straight face, Leslie saluted him. Jess, wearing that smug smirk, returned it. She faced the water then, took a deep breath, and plunged headfirst into the freezing depths.

It was colder than she expected but as she reached the bottom, her feet pushed against the dirt and propelled her upwards. When she breached the surface with a gasp she glanced to where her audience waited with a towel, intending to call Jess over so she could pull him in.

They weren't there.

Leslie gasped at the sight of all the boys and girls rushing towards the castle—with her clothes! As she ran to the spot where they had stood, she noticed a piece of parchment had been left on the ground atop her boots. Water dripped off her fingers as she bent to pick it up and she shivered in the cold as her eyes roamed over the words: _Now we're even!_

Leslie lowered the letter in trembling hands and whispered into the darkness, "Jess, you despicable fiend!" She stormed towards the keep door, knowing she would walk the halls of her own home dripping wet and completely naked. Fortunately there weren't many servants awake at that hour and she was able to avoid the patrolling guards by ducking into alcoves on her way to her room. By taking the servant corridors, which wove their way through the walls of the castle, she was able to reach their quarters. She confronted a group of giggling girls who were supposed to be asleep and demanded a towel and a dress. As mad as she was, none dared refuse and when they had finished helping her, she stepped through the halls again and made her way to her room.

Her feet moved more quickly as she approached the hall that led to her chambers and as she turned the corner she bounced off the chest of someone she hoped not to see.

Lowering her scarlet face, she groaned aloud.

Tom stared down at her in surprise. Leslie stood silently, refusing to look up at him. Miss Edmunds was beside him, her slender arm wrapped around his thick bicep. The two of them were obviously going for a romantic stroll when she came upon them. Miss Edmunds gasped. "Leslie? What's going on? You're dressed like a servant."

Leslie wanted so much to make a snide comment about how obvious that was but all she could do was shrug as Miss Edmunds asked why she was dressed in her servant's simple brown dress.

Leslie glared at Tom's smirk, knowing at last where Jess got the idea for the whole thing. She threw up her hands in exasperation and shouted her answer to Miss Edmunds questioning frown, "Because boys are crazy!" before storming off.

She finally reached her room only to find Jess was waiting for her.

He wore a smug grin that made her want to smack him.

As she approached, he bowed low at the waist. "Welcome home, your bareness."

Her face heating, she pushed past him and jerked the lever of her door.

It was locked. She pulled harder, not wanting to be outside another moment. Jess held up a key and grinned. She snatched it out of his hand and forced her way into her bedchamber, slamming the door in his smirking face.

She stood there then, gasping in the dark, content that it was finally over.

The next day proved her utterly wrong.

When she arrived at the door to her morning class, Leslie paused, feeling like she was about to plunge headfirst into the pond again.

She took a deep breath, opened the door and strode into the room.

At the sight of her, everyone cheered.

Leslie groaned and covered her blushing face with her books as she made her way to her desk. Miss Edmunds quieted everyone but Leslie still saw the knowing smirks of some of the boys and heard the whispers and giggles of the many girls. Some bragged that they had been there personally and the rest said they wished they had. Leslie bit her bottom lip and hunkered low in her seat, her face burning hot as they talked in low tones.

It was all she could do not to run screaming from the room.

Jess was very kind to her after that, generously hiding his pride at having successfully gulled her. She didn't speak to him for the rest of the week, not wanting to yell at him and hurt his feelings when she was really only mad at herself. Still, in spite of the grim humiliation, Leslie actually felt somewhat liberated by what he had put her through; girls who had never been brave enough to look her way before came up eagerly to ask her about the experience with wide eyes and silly grins. Leslie would politely explain that being stark naked in front of boys wasn't quite as bad as they thought and snidely suggested that they should consider trying it sometime.

They would then tell her how brave she was and that they could never do such a thing.

Leslie often wondered why she had gone through with it herself.

Of course, while the girl's questions were polite, the boy's questions were far more nettlesome, as they teased her about seeing her bare form and even dared each other to pinch her bottom as she strutted past. They had many laughs for weeks about the ones who succeeded in making her jump and those whom only received a gentle smack in the face for their efforts.

After more than a month of teasing, when Leslie finally thought it was over, a blond-headed boy she had known since she was six walked up to her and asked her if she wanted to go for a swim.

It took her a moment to reason out why he would ask such a thing but when she did, her mouth hung agape and her face heated at his bold suggestion. As she worked at trying to find the words to answer him, the boy ran off to the safety of his friends and they all rushed off laughing, clapping him on the back in congratulations.

Leslie stood there in the center of the hall, staring wide-eyed at the departing group. It occurred to her that the boy had been dared to say it and after a moment, Leslie simply shook her head and rolled her eyes at the silliness of boys.

It seemed that everyone who had once feared her now thought she was charming. Girls talked with her about boys and boys talked about how pretty she was—or dared one another to pinch her bottom. She blushed at their kindness and even had to dodge a few pranks involving water buckets or mud from high places. Leslie had always known they pulled pranks on each other but they never tried them on her or let her in on them, thinking she would get them in trouble or worse.

Now she was just one of the girls. Seeing her without clothes took away the fear with which she had been enshrouded and revealed that she was nothing more than a young girl, like every other. It seemed that for her whole life, Leslie had felt like she was living under some strange spell that separated her from the other children. She had often times found herself wishing that she could be just like them, playing pranks on the adults and laughing at jokes, or telling stories when they should be sleeping. She had enjoyed only a month of that life when she lived with Jess and it hardly seemed enough. Now, with his little trick, Jess had managed to break the spell and Leslie found herself being included in things. Of course the stories Jess told of their farm life helped with that—and sometimes added to Leslie's embarrassment.

None of the servant girls avoided her anymore or shied away when she asked them about their day. They all seemed to be more relaxed, as if all the times she had assured them she wouldn't hurt them were suddenly being taken seriously.

She felt more liberated than ever.

But she knew it wouldn't last. Jess had freed her from a minor prison, but he couldn't save her from a more permanent destiny. Still, he had helped and Leslie thanked him by helping Jess learn the names of birds during spring. There were many he named as his favorites, mostly by color and song, and Leslie almost didn't mind his references to how lovely Miss Edmunds was when she became a bird. Leslie liked Miss Edmunds—always had, in fact—but the way he went on about her became quite annoying.

There were warm days when the sun shone down while the two of them sat on a bench, talking like they used to, when he would suddenly wish aloud that Miss Edmunds were there or quote something she had told him. Leslie would smile and wait patiently while Jess told her that he would like to see her again and ask her about spring. Leslie always nodded and changed the subject as gently as she could. Tom was her favorite subject, but she never used him to bother Jess in return. Still there were times when she wished he couldn't talk so much about Miss Edmunds. She wished even more that she didn't have to see Tom with her. While Leslie knew she had no right to feel the way she did, especially about something so silly, every time she saw Tom and Julia together she could feel the hot claws of jealousy rake through her insides.

She wanted to stop thinking about Tom and wished Jess would forget Miss Edmunds but she knew they couldn't; they were stuck on them like bees on honey and nothing would change the way they felt.

When summer came and the midsummer festival began its dreaded approach Leslie knew it would all change. Everyone was prepared for it, it seemed. Except her. And Jess. He still didn't know. Leslie wanted to tell him. She had tried to tell him, but the words wouldn't come. She stroked a gentle hand over Prince Terrian's furry head and sighed. What she wouldn't give to change places with her beloved pet. If she were a dog, then a bone every now and then, a tummy rub and a nap in front of a cozy fire would be all she would have to worry over. He would never have to worry about telling Jess his secrets. She knew Jess could never understand and as time went by she forgot about her promises to explain her feelings and hoped that Jess would forget as well. But every time he looked at her, she felt a shiver of guilt at what she kept from him. Leslie never let it show but she didn't know how she could go on much longer without letting him know.

Leslie scratched Prince Terrian behind an ear to calm him as another lightning bolt lit the sky. The warm summer day was wasted, their plans for games and fun drenched in the downpour. A crash of thunder cracked the sky making Leslie gasp. Tears were forming, blurring the image of the dark courtyard before her and making her tremble. Seeking a memory to bring her some solace, she remembered when Jess told her of his sister's marriage.

Last fall Ellie had wed a man her father had brought home when he delivered Jess to the castle—Henry was his name. A letter arrived informing them of the nuptials. Jess told Leslie that he was the son of an innkeeper they met while staying in town on their journey to rescue her.

It was seven months ago when they received the news of the successful arrangement and by all reports, Ellie was very fond of her handsome new husband. Jess was happy for his eldest sister and sent her a lovely gift: a jeweled choker. Leslie had helped him buy it in the marketplace. Jess wondered about the gift, unsure if it was right for his sister. Leslie knew that Jess understood little about girls and less about wedding gifts but she assured him it was appropriate. He seemed satisfied by her answer and sent the gift along with the monthly stipend to help pay for the wedding. As much as he may have pretended otherwise, Leslie knew that Jess admired his sister and felt satisfaction that she was finally free of the farm and starting a family of her own. Ellie became pregnant that spring and Jess was soon to become an uncle. Leslie was happy for both Ellie and her husband, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself.

She would never have half of what they enjoyed.

As she turned away from the window, she set Prince Terrian on the floor of her room. There was no use putting off what she knew was inevitable.

It was time to tell Jess the truth.


	21. Chapter 21

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 21**

Jess spotted her coming down the hall. He was glad to see her wearing her blue dress, the one he favored. As she approached, the sound of the satin skirts swishing as she moved mixed with the hard clack of her boots on the polished wood of the hall floor. Jess never tired of the sounds her walking made and as she came near, he smiled. He waved to her. As she noticed him, she quickened her pace. The serious look she wore seemed devoid of the mirth she usually displayed. Jess felt his own face fall at realizing it would not be a day of fun and games. The books she carried tucked under her arm reinforced that belief. Understanding her intention, he opened the door to the study. Their private lessons were meant to catch Jess up with the other students, so while the rest of the class had the day off, he was confined to the small room to learn even more.

As they entered, Jess closed the door and sat down. "So what's today's lesson?"

She dropped her books down in front of him, the resounding smack of leather-bound pages on polished oak making him jump. He glanced up to see Leslie's face was set with a humorless look. "Politics."

Jess groaned. He didn't much care for that subject. He already knew the kingdom they lived in was called Arkahna and that it was ruled by a king. Under him, there were many Dukes controlling their shares of the kingdom. He didn't know what they did exactly, but he had lost interest in the subject after a while. He leaned back and stretched, wanting to tell Leslie that his muscles were still sore after the training session with Thomas.

Leslie fixed him with a look that told him he wasn't getting out of this.

An hour passed with Leslie reading and Jess asking questions. As much as he learned, he still didn't truly grasp the concept of government. "How do you understand all this Leslie?" He frowned at her from across the table. "And why would you want to try?"

Leslie stood and stretched. "My father is a politician, Jess. I have to know this stuff." She thought a moment. "Maybe if it were something meaningful to you…" She retrieved some scrolls, laying them out on the table.

"It's like this," she said, unrolling a map. She pointed to large places with borders touching. "Let's say your sisters, Ellie and Brenda, are both nobles." Leslie ignored the scoff he made and continued. "Each of them rules a duchy, but they don't get along too well."

Jess followed along with rising curiosity. While he had a hard time picturing his sisters as nobles, he had no problem imagining them as bickering siblings.

Leslie checked to make sure he was paying attention before continuing.

"Brenda's people make the best wagon wheels and Ellie's people are excellent farmers, but because they argue, they've stopped trading.

"While they bicker, nobody gets what they need. Fields of grain go to rot because they can't be moved and wagon wheels pile up because they're not traded."

She tapped the portion of the map that Jess recognized as the Burke duchy. "To solve this problem, my father steps in and offers to buy the grain from Ellie and the wagon wheels from Brenda. He then sells the grain he purchased from Ellie, to Brenda and the wagon wheels he bought from Brenda to Ellie." She smiled at the simplicity of her explanation. "Everyone gets what they need and everyone is happy."

Jess didn't understand all of what she had explained and the parts he did understand had a few problems. Her father had to have some other reason for doing this, a reason Jess couldn't see. "Why would your father help them? Why wouldn't he just stay out of it?"

Leslie looked over at him and smiled in that special way she had. He figured he had asked the right question.

"He intervenes because he buys the wagon wheels from Brenda at a discount—less money then he could have to pay normally. He buys from them cheaper because they won't sell to each other and they'll take less money for their goods if it means they don't have to deal with each other." She took a sip of cider and cleared her throat. "Then my father sells the wheels for profit—that's more money—when he sells them to Ellie." She pulled a few coins out of her purse and laid them on the table. "He buys each wagon wheel for about three silver marks and then sells them to Ellie for five silver marks. He gets his three marks back, plus two—that's the 'profit.' He does the same thing with the grain, buying cheap and selling for more profit."

Jess was impressed with her understanding of such complex rituals, but something still bothered him. "Then your father is cheating them." Noticing her darkening expression, he quickly explained. "Why don't they just trade with each other and leave your father out entirely?"

He was sure he had found something Leslie couldn't answer. He was wrong.

"They work with him because of their pride and stubbornness. They both think they're right and neither will apologize or try to make amends."

"So he takes advantage of them," Jess reasoned, "by preying on their pride to rob them in trade."

He expected Leslie's face to heat when he said such things about her father, but she remained surprisingly calm as she answered, "If my father didn't intervene, then their people would begin to starve, as the food in Ellie's land rots and Brenda's wagon wheels go unsold. Because there isn't enough grain coming into Brenda's land, the people who work her mills have nothing to grind into flour, and thus, no flour to sell to their bakers. Because of this, the millers go out of business and lose their homes to pay off debts, with the bakers following soon after.

"Since grain would be hard to come by in Brenda's land, the little bread made from the grain they do have would become expensive. The stores which still sell bread must soon raise their prices, now that the mills and bakers have disappeared. They don't have much bread left and they have to make as much money as they can because there won't be any more. Only the wealthy can afford the high cost of what bread there is and, after a time, there's almost no bread available anywhere—at any price."

Jess stood in quiet attention as he listened to Leslie's description of the decline of trade agreements and the doom of the people. "After a while, the people become desperate and begin looting the stores. People are killed in the streets for what little can be stolen."

Jess felt a wave of cold fright flood his veins as he imagined the plight of the people. He could almost hear the cries of the desperate and he was certain he could feel the gnawing pang of hunger growing inside his own belly. He swallowed hard as he heard about how thin and gangly people became. Desperately, he offered solutions, as if it were he, not they, facing starvation. "Couldn't they eat other things?" He licked his lips nervously. "Surely, they must have other things to eat—like fruits and meats."

He felt his hopes sink like a rock in a well as Leslie solemnly shook her head, denying his humble plea. "As businesses—like the bakers and millers—close down, people lose not only their bread, but their work as well. People no longer have the money to buy fruits and meats, because their main export—wagon wheels—aren't being sold. Those other business that provide fruit and meat are threatened because they can't have bread and others, like blacksmiths and cobblers can't work metal or make shoes because no one can afford to buy anything from them. Some families begin to die off as starvation takes hold. Others leave to find work elsewhere. Many families have been starving at this point and it's only getting worse as the weak fall ill from disease.

"By the time the famine reaches the wealthy merchants who support Duchess Brenda, most of the population of peasants have either starved to death or fled with their lives and with so many people leaving or dying there are few left to do any work at all.

"The merchants, finally beginning to feel the effects of such losses might at last urge Brenda to reconcile with her sister, but it would have been at a great cost and the land would need decades to recover—if they would recover at all." She gave him a meaningful look. "And I haven't even told you about what happened to Ellie's people during all this tragedy."

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Leaning against the table for support, he whispered a quiet plea, "Leslie, please don't tell me—I can't hear anymore. You were right. Your father does a good thing by keeping all those people from starving. I'm sorry I thought ill of him."

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now you know what my father does and why." She waited till he met her gaze. "Do you still begrudge him a little profit, Jess?"

He swallowed at the gentle look in her eyes. "No, Leslie."

She nodded. "Good. I hope you learned something from all this." She closed the book.

He had meant it when he said he didn't want to hear anymore but curiosity overcame him. "Leslie, could you tell me a little about what would happen to Ellie's people?"

She looked as if she might argue, but then calmed. "They couldn't move their goods without Brenda's wagon wheels." She wiped a hand across her eyes in weariness. "A slightly different version of what befell Brenda's people will happen to them, but it's all basically the same: Without people able to move and sell their grain, they lose money and eventually die off as well."

Jess stood in stunned silence. He had no idea that what the nobles did was so important. He knew about the private armies they kept paid with the taxes they collected, and that they had many servants to feed but he never realized that some of the money actually went to helping buy things from other lands and keeping everyone working together.

He sighed. He thought a noble's life was all ease and comfort. He now knew it was anything but easy. He still wondered though about some key points.

"Leslie?" he asked. "Why do they buy from your father? Can't they buy from others?"

She smiled again but it looked forced. She seemed tired from explaining everything and Jess thought he had better limit himself to fewer questions, for her sake. He couldn't help himself, though; he wanted know everything about this world—her world.

"I have only really given you a simplified example to teach you Jess, but yes, there are other nobles who buy, sell and trade with other lands. It happens all the time, all over the kingdom." She cast her hand over the map. "Alliances form between some of them, while trade agreements fall apart between others and people are generally unaware about how much it really affects them. Of course, it's all exaggerated for your benefit; I'm not sure it would turn out that way. There are many other lands to trade with and many other things must be taken into account, such as good harvests or bad, rivers flooding, frost damage, locust swarms…the whole thing is a complex system of constantly shifting factors that affect the price of bread and other goods." She yawned—more from fatigue, Jess thought, than the boredom of explaining things she already knew so well. "People like your family, Jess. They're the kind of people who are most affected but have almost no idea as to what's really going on in the world."

Jess didn't like the thought of his family being called ignorant, but he guessed it was true. He didn't understand a lot of what she was explaining and he knew his family had never even heard such things. He resolved to learn as much as he could, so he could be more comfortable in Leslie's company. "Why would my family be the ones most affected?"

"Remember the famine I mentioned? How prices were rising? Who do you think would be hurt by higher prices? The wealthy—like my family—or your peasants, like your family?"

With a chill, he realized she was right.

"Well, I'm glad your father does what he does," he confessed, "whatever it is." He sipped some cider and asked her something new. "Do all nobles deal in grain?"

Leslie picked up her cider. She drank it down and set down the cup. Rubbing her eyes, she started again. "There are some people who don't deal in things like grain. That was a simple example. Some deal in grain, others in wool and many don't limit themselves. They trade in whatever is available." She shrugged. "Some even trade in land."

Jess had almost lost interest, thinking he understood everything about the dealings of the upper class. Now his attention was caught again, like a fish on a hook. He asked her what she had meant by nobles trading land.

"There are some who trade use of their grasslands to shepherds for a share of the wool their sheep produce. Milk is also traded—along with cloth, as well as meat on the hoof— for grazing rights and the use of rivers."

Jess considered the sausage he had eaten for breakfast and wondered what story was behind the pigs that had produced it. He smiled inwardly. If only pigs could talk…

"Some people aren't as good at trading as my father," Leslie continued, "and there are some who are… meaner about it."

Jess wanted to know what she meant but before he could ask her, she continued.

"The nobles of the House of Owens are such people. They charge more then they should and always look for people in trouble. They don't try to help them—they take advantage." Leslie's posture had changed. She was leaning forward now, hunched over, with a look of simmering anger, like a cat about to eat a mouse.

Jess wondered if he was the mouse.

"H-How do they hurt people?"

"They buy from people they know are in trouble, like Ellie's people, and sell their grain for far more than my father would. They gouge their customers, not caring that they won't survive because there are always more needy people to cheat. The House of Owens is like a great wolf, hunting for bargains and fostering discontent. They don't promote cooperation—they care only for making money, often at other people's expense."

Jess swallowed. He thought to try to ask a question but he couldn't seem to find his voice. Leslie, seeing his interest piqued, continued.

"The House of Owens thrives on the destitution and losses of other lands. They don't like us because my father helps people work out their problems by reminding them of what's really important: their people. My family gives the Owens competition and, to their minds, steals away potential clients. They hate us for that more than anything else."

"Would they invade us, do you think?" He cleared his throat. "Go to war, I mean?"

Leslie laughed a little. Jess sighed as she leaned back and shrugged. "I'm sorry Jess. I didn't mean to scare you." She waved away the notion. "No, they couldn't invade. It wouldn't be allowed."

Jess wasn't convinced. "It doesn't sound like the Owens play by the rules." He scratched his head. "How can they not invade us? I mean, what's to stop them?"

"Well, our army is strong. They would stand against the invasion. Plus there's the King they would have to worry about and—"

Jess' ears perked up. "You know the King?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "I've met him a few times at the midsummer festival. But I don't really know him." She cleared her throat and brought the conversation back on track. "What I do know is that the King prevents war the same way the nobles prevent starvation: by managing the nobles the same way they manage their lands." She gestured expansively. "The King's army, the royal army, is bigger and stronger than any other. He wouldn't allow any war to take place within his Kingdom."

Jess sat back and considered. "Are you sure? What if they make war on him too?"

That brought out a simple laugh. Leslie's laughs were always a treat for the ears, but now Jess found his ears were burning. He realized she thought him hopelessly thick. He hunched his shoulders, wishing he hadn't asked what must have been a stupid question.

As her laughter subsided, she apologized. "The Arkahna royal army is made up of the best soldiers in all of the duchies. Just as each land specializes in something, like the production of wool or steel, each land also has weapons specialists like lancers, archers, spearmen or swordsman. The best lancers are from Ordaina and the best spearmen are from Calife' and so on. All the army is made up of the best specialists of each land so the royal army can out-match anyone they come up against. The King couldn't be ousted easily. It would take an army of greater size and strength than I can imagine, and even then, it wouldn't really be possible without wholesale treachery on the part of the royal army as well.

"And of course there are the Templars to help keep order."

"Templars? You mean like Tom?"

Leslie nodded. "He's just one of about a thousand Templar knights dedicated to keeping order in the kingdom."

"What are they like, I mean, what do you know about them?"

Leslie scratched her head as she considered his question. "They exist as a stabilizing influence, enforcing the King's will, though they don't strictly work for him. They have their own money and their own ways of doing things and their main goal, besides keeping the peace, is to hunt down those with evil intentions, those who would use magic to rest control from the Dukes and rule the land."

"But aren't the Templars priests?" Leslie nodded. Jess blushed, averting his eyes. "Then how is it that Tom allowed to… to kiss Miss Edmunds? I thought priests weren't allowed to have love."

"Priests of the faith don't have love, but Templars have their own order. They condone relationships and even perform marriage ceremonies. They often get their new recruits as sons of their members."

"Well, good for them, I guess." Jess wanted to ask about maybe becoming a knight and traveling the world, but from what he could gather, the Templars only let important people join their ranks. Jess knew that he was still just a servant.

Everything else Leslie had explained about the world was making him dizzy. It all spun around in his mind, whirling like snow in a blizzard. Jess was just staring to understand when Leslie commented that it was all just a simplified version to make it accessible to him today. "Real life is a lot more complex and interesting," she told him. Her eyes turned down a moment. He could barely hear her whisper, "And a lot more painful."

He frowned. "Painful?" She looked away. Jess touched her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, turning back to him with a smile. "That's enough for today." She closed the books and began clearing the table of maps. She shook a finger at him. "There are many other things to learn and you still have a lot of catching up to do."

Jess nodded. His head ached with all he had learned and all he still wanted to know but today's private lesson with Leslie was finished. He was beyond relieved by that; he wanted to do something simple after all that thinking and he wondered if he could see Miss Edmunds again, to ask her help in clearing his mind. He still wanted to learn more of course, especially about the royal family. People who were even more important than Leslie's family fascinated him. He wondered what they were like, if they were like Leslie or more like Brenda and Ellie. Jess thought to ask Leslie when a servant girl interrupted. Leslie came to her call and leaned close, listening to something the girl wanted to say privately. After a moment, Leslie straightened and dismissed the servant.

As the door closed, Leslie turned to him and gave him a sad smile.

"Father is home."

Jess followed her along at a steady pace, the sound of the footfalls echoing through the halls as they made their way to the anteroom. He wondered why she wasn't running to see him; he missed the Duke and thought she would be even more anxious to see him than he was.

There was no time to stop and ask. As they reached the anteroom, Jess saw that the Duke had already arrived. Servants surrounded him, taking orders and rushing to carry them out as he made his way through the hall. His red coat seemed worn and a little dusty but his clothes still looked finer than any Jess had ever seen. He couldn't imagine anyone more important than the Duke.

As he spotted Leslie, Duke William gave a final list of commands and came forward. Leslie rushed forward and immediately wrapped him in a hug. William warmly embraced his daughter while nodding to Jess.

Jess bowed. "Welcome home, my lord."

"Jess. It's good to see you again. Have you been taking good care of my daughter while I've been away?"

Jess smiled. He had always thought of Leslie as his sister—his amazing sister who knew so much about the most extraordinary things. Jess often forgot that Leslie was also somebody's daughter. He wondered how much the Duke, being her father, loved Leslie and how it would feel to have someone like her for a child. Jess nodded in answer to the Duke as Leslie began babbling about all the things they had done since he had arrived. Jess found himself blushing when Leslie mentioned how proud she was of him, of how smart he was and how fast he was learning everything. The Duke nodded in approval as Leslie went on about how much fun they had been having together.

Jess studied his feet as his face heated. He didn't think Leslie would ever stop talking.

The sound of her voice disappeared and as Jess looked up to see what had stopped her, he caught sight of something unusual. A woman had entered; a woman in a dark dress.

Jess breath caught at the sight of her. She strutted toward them with calm confidence, as if she owned the whole castle; the servants backed away as she came near, falling silent and bowing their heads before the woman as she strode resolutely toward her destination.

While most people in the room wouldn't meet her stern gaze, Jess found he couldn't take his eyes off her weathered face. The woman was reed-thin, like Miss Edmunds, but her calm countenance held none of the customary joy that made Julia so delightful. Her face was much older than Julia's, creased like his father's and her hair, although black as Julia's own raven coif, carried none of the shining vibrancy. It seemed a dull black cloud pulled back behind her head.

She was about the most sinister-looking woman Jess had ever seen.

He turned to ask Leslie who she was and found the look on his best friend's face even more frightening than the woman.

Jess didn't think he had ever seen a look of horror more terrifying than the one Leslie was trying to hide. The only thing that made Jess more afraid was the fact that the look was on Leslie's fair face where trepidation had no place.

The footsteps of the woman came closer. She stopped before them and peered down with intense brown eyes as Duke William stepped aside. Jess eyed the woman carefully, expecting her to glare at him for his insolence, but her scrutinizing gaze never left Leslie. Jess instinctively reached out to try to pull Leslie behind him, to protect her from this glowering woman. His hand silently glided toward Leslie's arm. It faltered just before he could reach her as, just then, Leslie did the most unexpected thing.

She curtsied.

Jess stood stunned, his mouth hanging agape as Leslie, gripping the sides of her blue skirts, lowered herself humbly to the floor and dipped her blonde head in deference to the woman. Jess didn't think Leslie ever bowed to anyone, especially in her own home. The arrogance of the woman, to think she could make Leslie do it, made Jess' blood boil.

As he watched her rise, Jess flicked his gaze between Leslie and the woman.

Leslie spoke, then, shocking Jess with her meek words. "A-A good evening to you, Mistress. Myers," she said. She swallowed and looked down again, too afraid to watch for a response.

The woman's stern glower didn't falter as she dipped her head in the slightest of nods—a silent acknowledgement of Leslie's deference. The gesture was so slight, so subtle that Jess knew that if he had blinked he would have missed the unspoken greeting. The Myers woman spoke then, her voice as stern as her visage. "It is good to see you again, Leslie."

"Will you be staying long," Leslie asked, and she swallowed again. "We-we would be honored if you would join us for dinner this evening."

"Mistress Myers will of course be joining us tonight, Leslie," her father answered. He handed a paper to a bowing servant before turning his attention to the conversation. Duke William seemed oblivious to Leslie's discomfort. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he explained that Mistress Myers would be spending a great deal more time with them. The words seemed to upset Leslie more than she wanted anyone to know. Jess knew. He had known her too long and too well to be fooled by the painted smile she wore as she gazed up at the two adults. Jess' own gaze flicked to the Duke to see if he could tell how much the Myers woman's presence was upsetting his daughter. The Duke's sincere smile informed Jess that he couldn't tell. Jess could see Leslie shaking in the presence of the woman. He wanted nothing so much as to pull his friend out of there, to take her away to the secret woods where they shared their lives and keep her safe from the evil-looking woman.

As if reading his thoughts, Mistress Myers cockroach-brown eyes finally flicked to him. The intensity he found their made him forget to breathe.

"And who would you be, little boy?"

Jess felt his face heat. He bristled at the woman's dismissive tone, at being called a 'little boy'. Leslie's voice brought him out of his hateful thoughts. "This is Jess, my new valet." He put on his best smile for Leslie's sake as she introduced him. "Jess, this is Mistress Myers."

"Charmed," he said in his best voice before he dipped a low bow.

She dipped her head in greeting, but her stern eyes remained fixed on Leslie the whole time.

Supper was served at the usual time. Everyone was quieter than usual. Mistress Myers had a collection of her own servants surrounding her at dinner. She spoke quietly with the Duke about many things that seemed to be of great concern to her. No one would say it, but it seemed to Jess that everyone was on edge with the Myers woman around.

As Jess tried to listen in on whatever it was the important people were saying, he noticed that Leslie wasn't eating. That she had barely touched her food was strange; she usually ate like a horse. Jess figured it must have something to do with Myers.

He glanced over at Myers and saw Julia and Tom on the opposite end of the table. It seemed strange seeing Julia at the same time as Myers.

The two seemed so much alike, yet so different.

In many ways, with her appearance so similar to Miss Edmunds, yet so dark and old, it seemed that this sinister lady was the opposite of everything fair Julia represented. He wondered if Julia would look like Myers when she got old. Jess felt shame at the thought of only liking Julia because she was beautiful. He had to wonder if she was even really in love with her.

As the evening wore on and things slowed down, Jess finally plucked up the courage to ask a question that nobody seemed to care about. "Mistress Myers," he asked in as clear a tone as he could manage, "Why are you here?"

Everyone stopped to look at him. The harp music stopped and as the echoes of the soft-strung melody faded into nothingness, Leslie fixed Jess with a look that told him he shouldn't have asked. Jess didn't look away from her exasperated expression. In truth, he wanted to ask Myers when she would be returning to her swamp, but he thought not to push it, lest Leslie be embarrassed.

Myers set down her wine goblet and regarded him coldly. "I am here to see to Leslie, to ensure that she is ready for the ceremony." It was clear by her tone that she didn't appreciate being questioned by a servant. Her expression said it even more clearly.

Leslie had just taken a drink of cider when Myers answered. Her fair cheeks were plumped like a squirrel's and Jess knew from the way her almond-shaped eyes widened that he shouldn't ask anything else, but that last statement caught hold of his curiosity and wouldn't let go. "What ceremony would that be, Mistress Myers?"

Leslie's bluish-green eyes flicked about, as if looking for an escape as she swallowed. Her cheeks had turned a rosy color. She looked as if she were about to bolt from the room like a rabbit running from a wolf.

She took a sharp breath as Myers explained her purpose.

"I'm here to prepare Leslie for the ceremony in which she will be married."


	22. Chapter 22

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 22**

"M-married?"

Jess could barely get the words out of his mouth. He felt dizzy. It couldn't be possible. Leslie looked at him with the same look she had given Myers, one of thinly concealed horror. To see that look directed at him took his breath. He felt as if he had struck her. She looked away, unable to speak. No one else spoke. Everyone had stopped eating. The room fell to a quiet hush as conversations trailed off into uneasy silence. Jess wanted to speak to Leslie, to have her explain what Myers meant.

Leslie didn't give him the chance to ask.

She stood, tossing her napkin on her plate.

"Excuse me," she whispered brokenly.

She fled the room in tears.

Everyone silently watched her go. Jess wanted to follow wanted to ask her what was going on. But more than anything, as all eyes went to him in silent accusation, he wanted to disappear from the room.

Jess kept his head down, finishing his meal in silence. He wished he hadn't opened his mouth. After dinner, he looked for Leslie. She wasn't in her room. Jess knew she almost always spent the evening preparing for bed. The fact that she wasn't there troubled him. He wondered where she might be. He thought about all the places she had taken him, all the secret places she shared with him, the places that they went when she wanted to talk.

Jess stopped in the center of the hall. Icy comprehension flooded through him.

He knew where she had gone.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. He spun around to see the Duke towering over him. "Jess," he said his voice gentle. "We need to have a talk."

Jess nodded. He wanted to find Leslie, but he knew better than to refuse an audience with his Lord. As he followed Lord Burke into a private study, he thought about Leslie, about her secrets and how she had kept yet one more from him. He made his way across soft carpets and took a seat in a richly upholstered chair as the Duke closed the door, sealing them inside. The room was small, for a castle room, but could still make a sizable bedroom for a few people from his family. In the silence, Jess listened to the fire snap and crackle. He wanted to ask about what was going on, but before he could ask, the Duke answered.

"Jess, there are some things we haven't discussed." He came around to stand before him. "It was not meant to be a show of disrespect," he said. "We simply forget sometimes that you don't know everything about this place."

"Sir, if I was disrespectful at dinner—"

The Duke waved away his attempted apology. "I meant that we were disrespectful to you, Jess."

Jess blinked. He didn't understand.

Duke William sighed. "Jess, my daughter is to be married to a noble."

Jess felt his flesh tingle. He had already known that for an hour but hearing it again set him to shaking. He knew he shouldn't say anything but he couldn't hold his tongue. "Why?"

"Because she is a noble."

The answer seemed obvious to the Duke, he was sure. He frowned and looked about the richly decorated room for some other answer, one that made more sense.

"Forgive me," the Duke said. "I keep forgetting." He sank into a chair opposite the fireplace and lay back, resting. "Jess, marriages in the noble world are about political alliances." He came forward again. "Do you know much about politics?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded, "Leslie taught me earlier today." Even as he told the Duke, he realized Leslie must have been preparing to tell him about her secret. He felt a fool for ruining her chance to tell him in her own way.

The Duke nodded his approval, as if he understood Jess' very thoughts. "Jess, Leslie is to be married to the son of another powerful Duke. Our joining will allow security to be brought and strength to be offered in this alliance." He stood. "That's what they say in public and that's what Leslie believes."

As he strode to the fireplace, Jess wondered at the meaning of everything he was learning. He wanted to ask a million questions but dared not voice one as the Duke continued. "Unofficially, I want my daughter to be taken care of after I'm gone. I want someone of good standing to watch over my Leslie and keep her safe." Jess watched as he stared into the fire, as if seeing things Jess could not. "I want her to have children of her own someday…"

Jess felt his face heat and realized it wasn't from the fire. He had always thought of Leslie as more than just a girl, more than anything, but to hear of her future as a woman made him dizzy.

"Is this making you uncomfortable, Jess?"

He looked up to see the firelight reflecting in the Duke's eyes. Jess nodded, even though he didn't mean to show any reaction. The thought of Leslie having her own children was at once disturbing and exhilarating. He also felt a sense of pride at the thought. Leslie would make a fine mother, someday.

But to be married at her age…

"My lord, why does Leslie have to be married so soon?"

Lord Burke gazed into the flames as he answered. "It's not a marriage, exactly; just a finalization of an arrangement." He strode to a polished maple desk and pulled open a drawer. He lifted something from it, something Jess couldn't quite see from where he sat.

As he returned, Lord Burke held the item aloft.

It was a scroll.

He handed it down to Jess. As he took the scroll in his hands, he felt the smooth texture. He wondered aloud at what it was made of; no parchment he ever felt was so smooth and soft.

"Its vellum," The Duke answered. "Calf skin sliced thin."

Jess smiled as he unfurled the scroll, glad to be on the verge of real answers. There was writing all over its length, words he could barely read because they were scrawled in such a fancy way. He squinted in the firelight, hoping to discern what it all meant. After a while, he realized that even though he could read some of the individual words, he didn't understand their meaning.

"Do you understand, now, Jess?"

He shook his head. "It's not clear to me, my lord."

The Duke gestured to the scroll. "Basically it says that Leslie is to be wed by her next birthday. It is an agreement that was entered into when Leslie was born. She won't be sent to live with her husband until she comes of age, but until then the ceremony she will attend will show to all that the union is proper and promised." He gave Jess a meaningful look. "We will all be there to see it through—even you."

Even you. The words hit him like a slap. He knew what the Duke meant. _Even a lowly nobody like you will be there to see her handed over to someone who probably doesn't care for her. _He felt like hitting the Duke. "Is this why you chose me, sir?" He could barely keep the edge out of his voice, "To keep other boys away from Leslie so that she wouldn't be… spoiled or something?"

The Duke didn't glower, didn't even flinch. His eyes were soft and understanding. "No, Jess, I chose you because I wanted someone I could trust to be her friend. It isn't easy on any of us—Leslie least of all. I just thought it would be nice for her to have someone to talk to about this and make her feel better."

Jess didn't know how he could possibly make this better for her. He only knew he had to try. "What if she married someone else?" When the Duke gave him a questioning look, Jess stood. "My lord, let her marry me. I'll take good care of her—I promise."

There was a long silence. Jess feared the response to his offer would be an execution. Instead, the Duke laughed. The sound of it had Jess blushing and sinking back into his chair. Jess couldn't meet the Duke's gaze. He didn't lift his had until his chuckle died out.

"So, first you enter my house and now you wish to enter my family?"

Jess stared at the floor as he shook his head. "No, my lord, I-I didn't mean…"

"It's all right, Jess. I understand how you feel. I don't want to give her up either." Jess looked up at the Duke in wonder. "But I have to do what's right for her and this is right."

"For her or for you?"

The Duke didn't back away from the remark. He sighed and looked again into the fire. "Jess, I know you can't understand what a father feels, what he has to do to protect his daughter." He turned to him again. "I wanted a son. Not just because sons carry on their father's name but because having a son is easier than having a daughter. I find myself having trouble with Leslie as she grows older because I'm not a woman and I can't teach her how to be what she will one day become."

Jess sat in silence, rubbing his fingers over the smooth vellum scroll. He felt so small in the over-sized chair. He thought of his own father, of how he had given him over to the Burke nobility so he could have a chance at a better life. He knew it must not have been easy. He thought of his sisters—Ellie and Brenda—both of marrying age and now only one without a husband. He knew Brenda wanted children of her own and that father had to choose who she would marry. He thought of May belle, his little sister and what she would go through when she came of age. Jess sighed. He guessed he didn't really understand what it was to be a woman either.

As the fire crackled, Jess examined the scroll once more, trying to find something that would help. He could barely read a word of it. He finally gave up, realizing that there was nothing he could do for Leslie. He stood on quaking legs and handed the scroll back to the Duke. He accepted the scroll without comment. Jess didn't know what to say.

Then a thought occurred to him. "My Lord, why can't we just burn the scroll," he asked, gesturing to the flames at his side. "Toss it in the fire and be done with it?"

The Duke didn't look surprised by his suggestion. "That would be treason, Jess."

Jess didn't know what treason was exactly but he guessed it wasn't good. "And?"

"And they hang you for that."

Jess swallowed. He could feel tightness in his throat, as if he was being hanged at that very moment. "Well, I-we wouldn't tell anyone, then."

The Duke held the scroll out to him. Jess took it, wondering what was coming next. "Jess, look at the mark at the bottom." Jess ran his fingers over the wax seal at the base of the scroll. There was an imprint imbedded in it. He recognized from his monster books the profile of a griffin. "There," the Duke told him, tapping the wax symbol. "That's the royal seal. The High King of Arkahna wrote this himself when Leslie was born. Even if we destroy this scroll, there is a copy of it in the Royal Palace." He shook his head. "It would do no good."

Jess knew the Duke was humoring him; the Duke didn't really want the deal to be broken but he wanted to show Jess the futility of his dreams. Leslie wouldn't be free from the deal no matter what he did. Jess knew the Duke was being patient with him by explaining all this; he could have easily ordered the matter dropped. Since he was explaining everything to him anyway, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something he was missing.

"Couldn't anyone help us?" Jess stared up at his lord, expecting nothing.

"Only the King can revoke a royal order. If we tried to go against this, we would be more than fools—we'd be dead fools."

The Duke gently lifted the scroll and rolled it back up. As he returned it to the drawer, he turned to Jess and asked an expected question. "Jess, do you know why you're here?"

Jess blinked in confusion. "Because you asked me to come in here?"

"No, I mean, do you know why you met Leslie, why all this happened?" He had no answer to give so the Duke finished the thought. "We told Leslie about the social contract a few months ago—just before she met you. She ran away because of it."

Jess felt stunned. As much as he hated the thing, he realized that he never would have met Leslie if it weren't for the scroll. "Why didn't you tell her sooner?"

"I was trying to protect her. Looking back, I realize she might have been better off growing up with the knowledge. She might have had time to get used to it and maybe she would be better prepared for it now." He waved the matter away. "But that doesn't change anything. Right now she needs you to be her friend and help her through this, to make it easier for her." He gave Jess a serious look. "Do you know where she is, Jess?"

He nodded. "I think so, my lord."

"Go to her, Jess. Go and be with her now, while you still can."

Jess bowed and left the room, carrying a heavy heart with him as he went to see Leslie.

He found her on the tower. He knew she would be there; Leslie always loved the view.

As soon as he came out at the top, he saw her sitting against the wall in the darkness, her legs pulled up against her chest, her arms around her knees. Soft crying drifted to him on the cool night wind.

As he watched her shoulders shake, Jess walked towards her as quietly as he could.

She looked up at him as he approached. Her beautiful face glistened with tears. She sniffled and glared. "Go away."

He turned to go, but stopped and shook his head. Leslie threw her arm out in frustration. "I order you to go!"

He almost did. The command in her voice was undeniable. But he wouldn't leave her alone. He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. She buried her face in her arms and resumed her sobbing. Jess came over to her, sinking down at her side. He put his hand on her back, feeling her shake with her tears.

"I'm sorry, Leslie," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I wish you'd told me…"

"Told you what?" she snapped. "That my life isn't mine? That my parents are sending me away to be with some fat, spoiled noble who will use me for his pleasure and take my family's wealth?" She wiped her nose on her sleeve—a rare gesture for a proper young lady, Jess noted—and looked up at the darkening sky. "I wish I could just fly away…"

Jess stared up with her. "Where would you go, Leslie?"

She shrugged, still staring at the twinkling stars. "Anywhere. Everywhere." She gestured expansively, as if drawing images in the air. "I'd travel to the mines of the dwarves and the forest kingdoms of the elves. I'd sail the open oceans. I'd meet hobbits and fight monsters and greet friends and save kingdoms." She let her hand drop. "Maybe I'd even find someone to love."

Jess nodded. He could almost see the places she talked about, the adventures she would never have and he wished with all his heart that she could have those things.

He wished even more that he could be there with her.

Jess placed his hand on her back. "I wish you could do those things, too, Leslie." He softened his voice as he spoke. "I really wish you could."

Her bluish-green eyes turned to him. He could barely see her face in the darkness. "I'm glad you're here, Jess." She sniffled. "It makes it easier."

Jess smiled. He hadn't intended to tell her, but he decided she could use a good laugh. "I told your father I would marry you, if he'd let me."

She barked a laugh. His grin widened at the sound and as he felt her wrap her spindly arms around his neck and pull him close, he stroked her long, golden hair. Jess held her gently as she laughed against him. "Oh, Jess, thank you so much for trying to help. Thank you for being here." She patted his back. "I wish I could marry you." She pulled away to look him in the eye. "I think we'd be wonderful together, as husband and wife."

Jess delighted in the thought. They could live together for the rest of their lives. He would take care of her and she would always be there for him. They could run back to the farm and stay with his family or maybe even live in the woods like Mistress Vanderholt, somewhere the nobles would never find them.

But it was all just a silly dream.

Leslie stood and wiped away her tears. "It's getting late," she declared. "We should prepare for bed."

Jess nodded and accepted her hand up. As he came to his feet, Leslie led him to the door. She stopped and looked back at him, her eyes wide.

"Jess," she asked, as if venturing an uncertain question.

"Yes, my lady?"

She winced at that. "I was thinking," she began.

It almost sounded to Jess like she was afraid to ask him something. He decided to tease it out of her. "Is there a problem, my lady?"

Leslie glared. "If you call me that again, I will throw you off this tower and I'm talking on the gravel, not the lawn." He nodded his acceptance of her wishes and crossed his heart that he wouldn't cross her again. She took a deep breath and continued. "I was wondering if you wanted to try something outrageous tonight."

He frowned. "Like what, my—Leslie."

She hooked some of her long golden hair behind an ear and averted her gaze. "I'll tell you about it if you agree to it first. I won't make you do it if you change your mind," she added hastily, "I just need a commitment from you before I can go ahead with it."

Jess swallowed. "You want me to kiss you or something?"

Her almond-shaped eyes got big as she back away a step. "What? No!" When he winced at her shout, she composed herself. "No, I just wondered if you wanted to take a trip with me out of the castle tonight."

Jess felt his blood run cold. "Leslie," he whispered, shaking his head, "I can't help you run away again."

"No, no, not that," she said, waving off the notion. "I just meant a trip, a small excursion, that's all. Tom will be with us both the whole time."

Jess frowned. "Why would Tom come along?"

Leslie folded her arms. "Look, do you want to come or not?"

Jess thought a minute before answering. "I'll come," he said, "to keep an eye on you. I really don't want to lose track of you again."

"Agreed."

Leslie extended her hand. He clasped it. Then he did something unexpected.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a romantic kiss; not on the lips, the way adults kissed. It was just a peck on the cheek. Peck or not, Leslie froze. Her face was a mask of stunned confusion. Even in the dark, Jess could see her fair cheeks turning red.

Leslie planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back a step.

As she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, she looked about, confused. "Jess!" she scolded in that annoyed tone he knew so well, "Why did you do that to me?"

He held his hands out to his sides. "I just thought you would like to get a kiss from a boy you liked before you have to marry one you don't."

Leslie planted her fists on her hips and gave him a scalding look with which he was all too familiar; he half-expected her to wag her finger at him. "You took a big chance, Jess Aarons." Her face was red and her expression glowering but the way her mouth quivered made it seem to Jess as if she was trying her hardest not to burst out laughing. He had a hard time controlling his own laughter as he watched her almond-shaped eyes narrow. "What makes you think I won't just have you whipped for that?"

Jess shrugged as he gave her a small smile. "I guessed I'm just luckier than most."


	23. Chapter 23

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 23**

That evening, as Jess lay awake, thinking about all he had learned, he found he could not sleep. His thoughts drifted to the kiss he had given Leslie and the reaction from his best friend. It was not a romantic kiss—not at all. It was a gesture of friendship, the kind your mother gave you when you were little and had to spend the day away from her. He knew Leslie needed it and he wasn't shy about providing whatever she needed. He thought maybe he should tell someone, but decided against it.

The Duke might have a fit and Leslie would certainly be embarrassed for everyone to learn of their indiscretion. He sighed. He supposed he should tell someone.

His eyes roamed his dark room, finally settling on the polished oak desk. He often sat at the desk for writing his letters. Since coming to live at the castle, Jess had learned so much about writing and he used it by writing a letter each week, telling his family about his new experiences with Leslie. He wondered if he should include something about the kiss.

No. He didn't think Ellie and Brenda needed any more arrows to shoot at them and that would be a big one. Besides, he was just lending comfort to a friend when needed. Jess knew they would hurt him for it. Nothing good would come of his telling them anything.

He wondered about the trip Leslie had mentioned. She had said he needed to agree to it before she would tell him about it. He wondered what she had in store for him. A knock at the door caught his attention. It was a soft sound, very discreet. Jess didn't think it was so late, but after a moment, he slipped out of bed and moved to the door as it creaked open letting in a shaft of candlelight.

Leslie waited for him.

"Ready to go?"

He looked at her clothes. Instead of her usual blue dress, she wore brown wool pants and high leather boots. As he took in the red shirt and dark coat she sported, Jess wondered briefly if she wasn't really running away again. He decided he would be there to make sure she didn't and as soon as he was dressed, he followed her through the empty halls. The castle seemed so quiet after dark, so spooky. He knew everyone except the night guards were asleep and Leslie pulled him back more than once as she ducked into a corner to avoid detection. As his heart pounded, he tried not to cry out. The soldiers marched past on their nightly patrol as Leslie held her hand over his mouth, her bluish-green eyes telling him without words not to breathe. He thought they would be caught for sure but he reminded himself that Leslie had escaped the castle before and that she must be good at it to even be attempting to do so again.

As they made their way towards the final hall that led to the courtyard, she looked back at him. She wore that mischievous grin, the one that got them both into trouble back on the farm and usually ended with both of them receiving whippings. He felt his stomach lurch as she crossed a finger over her lips and winked.

He was sure they'd both be whipped before dawn.

As they made their way through the castle, Jess eyed Leslie's boots. They were tooled-leather with hard soles and he couldn't help but wonder at how she could walk the halls without them making more than a hushed whisper. His own boots had clacked loudly against the hard polished wood of the floor no matter how carefully he stepped and he was certain they would get them caught. Carpets spaced periodically throughout the castle provided brief periods of respite but his breath quickened every time he heard whispered words of guards drifting to him from the nearby halls. Finally, after a series of near misses that had his heart galloping almost out of control, they reached the final door.

Leslie cracked it open and peered out into the dark night. She looked back at him and smiled. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

Jess nodded, unable to speak. Leslie grabbed his wrist and slipped out the door, pulling him close behind. The door shut behind them without a sound, blocking out the last of the hall light and casting them both into darkness. Jess took a deep breath of the cool night air, relieved to be away from the halls and terrified that they were so much closer to their destination. As they made their way across the lawn, Jess realized he could barely make out the shape of a figure near the stables. The dark form held a lantern at its side and Jess thought he could see shining metal reflecting the dim glow of the light.

The figure seemed to be waiting for them.

When they neared, Jess pulled Leslie back a bit and inched forward, squinting against the now harsh glow of the lamp. His eyes stung from the shift in light as he got closer. He couldn't tell who it was that greeted them. To his surprise, Leslie stepped forward and clasped hands with the man, unafraid. Jess whispered for her to get back but as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized the figure was Tom.

His grin was reassuring and frightening at the same time. "You two ready?"

Leslie nodded eagerly, but Jess held back. "What are we doing here?" He looked around, certain the light from the lamp would give them away.

Tom frowned at Leslie. "You didn't tell him?"

As she glanced sheepishly toward him, Jess looked from Leslie, back to Tom. "Tell me what?" He gripped Leslie's arm. "What's going on?"

Leslie winced just a little as she turned to him. "Jess," she began, "We're leaving the castle tonight but to do it, we're going to fly."

He wasn't sure he heard her right. How could they fly? There was no way. None. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what trick Leslie had found that could allow it but as he glanced past Tom, he saw the answer step forward.

Tom's winged horse stepped out of the stables, nuzzling him. Tom patted her muzzle and scratched behind her ears. The mare nickered and Jess laughed. He felt instantly excited and terrified.

"So this is where you two were going."

The sound of the voice made Jess jump. Everyone turned to see a dark form slipping close to them. Jess thought he knew the soft sounds but as the figure drew near, Jess felt his heart race. He reached out for Leslie to move back. She slipped back near Tom and when Jess saw that she was safe with him, he turned to see the figure lift a hand.

Lavender light ignited above her palm. Jess sagged in relief at the sight of the soft features suddenly illuminated by the purple glow.

Miss Edmunds smiled down at him.

"Miss Edmunds," he whispered, clutching his chest, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Her voice was not accusatory. If anything, she seemed amused. "Tom, what are you doing with Nova?"

"I just wanted to take them for a midnight ride, that's all."

Miss Edmunds stepped close, raising the flame of lavender light to look him in the eyes. She gestured to Leslie. "You know Leslie isn't supposed to leave the castle." She placed a slender hand on Jess shoulder. "You could get Jess in trouble for not protecting her."

Jess swallowed. The sight of her was wondrous. She wasn't wearing one of her dresses, instead sporting a pair of red pants that hugged tight to her form. The shape of her made his heart flutter. He loved the feeling of Julia's hand on him, but he was terrified he'd say something stupid. He wanted her to stay by his side, maybe even talk Leslie out of this little flying trip. The way she was smiling, though, made his hope for that outcome evaporate.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Tom, you are incorrigible."

He grinned at that. "So you're not coming?"

"Of course I am."

Jess heart leapt. The thought of gliding through the night with Julia on a magical winged horse was almost enough to make him faint. He wanted to mount the steed, extend his hand for his love and take off into the sky. He almost wished Leslie and Tom weren't there.

As if hearing his thoughts, Leslie came forward. "You won't tell my parents?" Her face glowed lavender in the light, a pleading visage Jess would have found quite amusing, if not for the current circumstances.

Miss Edmunds shrugged at Leslie's plea. "Tell them about what?"

Jess smiled. He liked the way Miss Edmunds spoke, so clear and to the point. She wouldn't tell, he knew. It would be a good night. Nova stamped her hoof, impatient to be off. Tom scratched her ears and led her out into the courtyard. They decided to take turns, since Nova couldn't carry all four of them at once. Leslie volunteered to go first and Tom agreed to take her up. As he lifted her into the saddle, he tied a rope securely about her, attaching the other end to his waist. It wouldn't do to drop her from up high.

As Tom mounted Nova and tossed Miss Edmunds a wink, he took up the reins and pressed his heels into the mare's sides, sending her running across the courtyard. Her white-feathered wings outspread, they swept down in great beats that lifted her into the air.

As Jess watched them soar over the outer walls, he heard Leslie squeal with delight.

Then he was alone with Julia.

Against her better judgment, Leslie let out a furious scream.

She couldn't help it. The exhilaration of soaring through the air, above the clouds and over the treetops was more than she could contain. All the pent up frustrations of her life, the unwanted marriage and lack of control over her own destiny all burst forth in that exquisite moment of unbridled ecstasy. The arms of the man she loved wrapped around her, the wind whipping at her face, stinging her eyes and buffeting her ears, she threw her head back and laughed. The feeling of flying had always thrilled her made her feel as if anything were possible.

It occurred to her that her time with Jess was somewhat similar.

As Tom held tight to the reins, taking them into a nose dive toward the lake, Leslie allowed her arms to stretch up towards the heavens. They descended rapidly towards the dark water. The moonlight glinted off its surface, winking to them with promise but the horse pulled up just before impact and Leslie found herself skimming over the churning surface at incredible speed. She knew no ordinary horse could move so quickly. Flying always freed one from the force of gravity and thus most of the restrictions that slowed other horses did not apply. The wind worked with them, keeping Nova aloft as her hooves splashed against the lapping waters spraying them with cold mist.

Her clothes were soaked and damp but they would be dried once they flew through the night sky, letting the updrafts buffet her awhile. Despite his sitting directly behind her, Leslie could barely hear Tom's shout above the sound of the wind and water. It sounded as if he were suggesting they return to give Jess a turn. Leslie shook her head in response.

She wasn't quite ready to surrender her turn yet. She was also quite sure that Jess wanted a few more minutes to be alone with Miss Edmunds.

"So, ah, do you think they'll be safe up there?"

He hadn't known what else to say. He wished he could have come up with something more important, more meaningful to say, but as they sat in the stables, he just couldn't make his mind work properly. Julia turned to look down at him and smiled. "Of course, Jess. Leslie's been taking these little trips for years."

Jess nodded. He wanted to ask her about her life, about her magic but sitting there, talking quietly as they waited for their turn, he found that he couldn't bring himself to say much. He stood and removed his coat. The summer night was hot and he really didn't need his coat until they were in the air. Quiet as he could, he slipped back onto the hay bale beside Julia. While he wondered how long Leslie would be, he stole glances at her.

The lantern she kept close by illuminated her in a flattering way, giving her angular features a sharp look and making her raven hair shine. She looked so soft, so gentle.

He wanted so much to kiss her.

When she glanced down at him, he quickly looked away.

"Jess," she whispered. He flinched when she spoke his name. He didn't meet her gaze. "You like her, don't you?"

Jess frowned up into Julia's beautiful face. "Who?"

"Don't be shy." She nudged him with her shoulder. "You know who I mean." Her smile was wonderful. He didn't have a clue as to what she meant, but when he didn't answer, she pointed a thin finger to the sky. "Leslie."

Jess felt a flood of relief wash through him. Grateful for the deep shadows hiding his blush, he nodded. She grinned again. "She likes you, too, you know."

Jess returned the smile. "Really?" He brushed the hair back from his hot forehead. "I never knew."

When she nodded, he relaxed. He didn't tell her that he didn't think of Leslie that way and that he knew Leslie loved him like the brother she always wanted; he just let Julia continue talking about their relationship, about how he was the best friend she ever had and how happy she had become since he arrived in her life.

In his mind, Jess pretended she was talking about herself. He imagined she was confessing feelings of love for him when she told him how special he was and how kind he was to Leslie. He liked the way she smiled at him and he melted when she mentioned how handsome she thought he looked in his nice clothes. He was glad he wore his fancy black wool trousers and matching vest. The way it looked with his red shirt made him look dashing.

As Julia spoke, he let the sound of her soft, lilting voice carry him deeper into her heart and as her bright blue eyes stared deeply into his soul, Jess noticed for the first time that they were the same wonderful almond shape as Leslie's. But while hers were blue with a hint of green, Julia's were pure pale blue without the taint of any other shade to dull their potency.

When she leaned close to whisper something to him, he did what he never thought he would have the courage to do: Grabbing her soft shoulders and pulling her close, Jess planted a kiss right on her warm, soft lips.

For a brief moment he was alive with the fulfillment of a dream. It was so much like what he had done with Leslie, but somehow, it was so much more. Where before he was comforting a friend, he was now indulging in something forbidden, something special, something he had dreamed of having for what seemed like forever.

The world fell away as every part of him screamed with the joy of a fantasy realized.

The dream broke as he fell back from her, shoved off the hay bale. He fell hard, landing on his backside with a grunt. Jess stared up in surprise. The spell was broken and as the world returned, he felt pain flood in where joy had stood.

Miss Edmunds was on her feet, her hands covering her mouth in horror. "Oh, Jess! I'm so sorry!" She reached down towards him. "Are you okay?"

Jess looked away from her proffered hands. He bit his lip, trying his hardest not to cry. What had he done? He had kissed Miss Edmunds! He never meant for it to happen, but with the beautiful moonlight and the soft glow of the nearby lantern and the sweet scent of lavender in the air, he just couldn't help himself. He turned away, shame-faced as she knelt down beside him. Her gentle hand found his shoulder. He wanted to shake it away. He wasn't worthy of her touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"Its okay, Jess… really." Her voice was so sweet, it made him ache. He wanted to die. "I just… I don't… well, I-I don't understand..."

Jess felt the first of many tears slip out between clenched eyes. "I just liked you so much… and I thought you liked me too…"

"I do," she said. "But Jess, I had no idea you felt this way about me. I would never have encouraged you—"

He waved her off and stood on shaky legs, trembling as he held back tears. "It wasn't your fault, Miss Edmunds. I-I presumed too much." His voice nearly broke. "I'll take my leave of you now, Miss Edmunds." He bowed deeply. "G-Goodnight."

Jess turned and stepped out of the stables, grateful for the darkness hiding his shame when a gust of wind blew his hair back as Nova swooped in to land nearby. Tom helped Leslie down and as she staggered about with a giddy grin on her face, Jess fought to control his crying. She spotted him and stumbled over, her cat's tail braid almost completely undone.

When she tried to speak, he pushed past her, heading for the castle.

Tom came forward. "All right, Jess, it's your turn." He reached out for him, but Jess pushed his hands away and ran for the castle door. He didn't look back as he heard Leslie calling out to him in confusion. Miss Edmunds' soft voice made him run even faster, as hot tears he could no longer contain streamed down his face.

He knew she was telling them what had happened.


	24. Chapter 24

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 24**

"Jess?"

He ignored the voice. It came again, muffled by the door.

"Jess, it's me. Leslie."

He stuffed his face into his feather pillow, willing her to leave. He tried not to make a sound, hoping that she would think him asleep. His hopes were destroyed at the sound of the door opening. He lay perfectly still, hoping she would leave. He heard her feet shuffling across the carpet and then felt her soft hand on his back. Her voice came gentle, full of understanding. "I heard what happened, Jess. I'm sorry."

Jess clutched his pillow and tried not to moan. He didn't want her to know he was in so much pain. If he just lay still, he hoped she would not press the issue. He felt the bed move and knew that she had sat on the edge. Jess couldn't resist and snuck a quick peek. She was looking at him with genuine sympathy.

"I'm really sorry, Jess."

Her voice was sweet, like Miss Edmunds. He wished he could forget her. But he couldn't. "Please," he whispered burying his face in the pillow once more. "Just go away."

"Why did you do it?" she asked. Her voice was no longer sweet. He felt the bed lift as she stood. "What were you thinking?"

He didn't know how to answer. He just lay there trying not to cry. Leslie sighed and he knew she was shaking her head. "It was really dumb, Jess. Really dumb."

That brought him up in a rush. "Don't you think I know that?" He felt his face burning as he glared at her. "All I can think about is how stupid I've been!" He sank back down to the bed. "She probably hates me now."

"She doesn't hate you, Jess. She's worried about you." Her hand rested on his shoulder. "We all are."

He stood wiping at the tears that wouldn't stay away. "Well, you won't have to worry anymore." He strode over to the end of the bed. As he knelt down before it, he told her what he had been planning since he made his mistake. "I'm leaving."

"You're what?"

"Leaving," he repeated. "I'm not going to stay here anymore."

"That's jut crazy," she said. "Where would you go?"

"Back to the farm," he answered without hesitation. "My family might welcome me home." He popped open his trunk and began pulling out clothes for his trip.

"Jess…" she spoke his name with an upward inflection. He knew she was displeased with him but he didn't blame her. He was supposed to be a gentleman. He was just a fool. He didn't acknowledge her, instead choosing a few good pants and shirts and a pair of boots he fancied. His work finished, he closed the trunk.

As he stood, he found Leslie staring at him. Ignoring her, he folded up his clothes and tucked them under an arm. Grabbing the pair of boots, he pushed past Leslie and headed for the door.

"So that's it," she called to his back. "You're just leaving."

He didn't look back as he grasped the door handle.

"I thought you were my friend," she said.

He froze. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm your friend."

"Well you're sure not acting like it."

"I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't." She grabbed his shoulder spinning him around. "You think you're the only one embarrassed by this? You think you're the only one who matters? You're selfish, Jess. You're running away because you can't stand to stay. You're running away from your responsibilities to this family, to your friends and to me."

Her words cut through him like a knife. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she didn't understand, but he couldn't say anything. He couldn't even look away from her almond-shaped eyes. Tears welled in his eyes just as they glistened in hers. He dropped his bundled clothes to the floor, his face burning with shame. "I just don't know what to do."

She squeezed his shoulder. "We'll figure it out together."

As he slipped his arms around her she pulled him into a tight hug. They wept quietly against each other for a long time, neither willing to let go.

Jess found her in the courtyard. She was feeding birds with handfuls of seeds. The way they flocked around her made Jess think she was one of them. He wanted to talk to her but she didn't look like she was interested in visitors. Jess sighed. He had to get it over with sooner or later.

As he strode over to her she spotted him. Her face was unreadable. "Jess…"

"Miss Edmunds." He bowed. "M-may I sit?"

She gestured for him to take a seat beside her. He smiled but wiped it away quickly as he remembered what he was here to do. Sitting beside her, he took a handful of seeds she offered and tossed them across the grass. Many birds of varying colors fluttered down to feast. Jess didn't look to Miss Edmunds, instead focusing on counting all the red birds. As she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, Jess felt his face heating. His breathing became labored and he feared he might cry. He almost swatted her hand away.

"Miss Edmunds," he blurted, "I'm sorry about kissing you, I just couldn't—"

She shushed him. "It's all right, Jess, I'm just glad you weren't hurt. I pushed you pretty hard." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight against her. She felt so warm and smelled so good. As he laid his head against her soft shoulder, and wrapped his arms around her waist, Jess looked up into her smiling face and smiled back in spite of himself. As she hugged him, she patted his back. "I hope you don't hate me."

The thought horrified him. "Of course not, Miss Edmunds. I could never hate you." He almost added, "because I love you," but caught himself just in time. He allowed himself to say, "I think you're wonderful," and relaxed when she smiled.

"Thank you," she said. She looked out across the sunlit lawn, guiding his gaze to the servants trimming hedges and tending the gardens. Children his age flew past, playing a game of you-can't-catch-me as they raced through the early morning light. No one paid the two of them any heed, though Jess fully expected them to point and laugh at the pair.

Jess sighed completely contented that he could be there beside Miss Edmunds without crying or being called names. He breathed deep her lavender scent as she stroked his hair. "I really like you, Jess. I think you're someone special, like Leslie."

He glanced up at her beautiful black hair, her fair face and those beautiful azure eyes. He wanted to ask her for another kiss, but he knew better than to spoil the moment with such silly questions, instead settling for visions of the day they'd be married.

He blushed, wondering if Julia could read his thoughts.

Her voice came soft and sweet. "It must have been hard for you, kissing someone and not having your feelings returned." He nodded against her. "Jess, would it help if I told you about the first time I kissed someone?"

He looked up at her, at her pale blue eyes, unsure about what to say. He didn't want to offend her and the look she gave him made Jess think it must be something very important she wanted to share, so he nodded.

Julia sighed and leaned back against the bench. "It happened when I was about your age. I really liked a boy and I knew he liked me. I wanted to try to kiss him but I was always too nervous. My sister told me that I should just swallow my fear and try, so one day, while we were sitting by a duck pond, I leaned over and planted a kiss right on his face."

Jess hung his head in shame. It sounded so much like what he had done to her. He felt his face flaring hot and kept his head low as he asked, "Did he ever speak to you again?"

"Not for a while. You see, Jess, the day I kissed that boy was the day I first discovered I had magic."

His head came up at hearing that. "What do you mean?"

Julia's fair face turned a shade of scarlet and she looked away a moment before answering. "When I kissed him, I… _accidentally_… turned him into a frog."

Jess barked a laugh and her red face turned into a hot glare. "It's not funny, Jess." He swallowed back his next laugh before it could escape as she calmed her voice and continued. "I was terrified—I didn't know what to do. I was only a little girl and the first boy I'd ever kissed had just turned into frog. I thought I'd never be able to change him back." She brushed back some raven hair and continued. "We—I—ran home to my parents and told them everything. My father fetched the local sorceress and we spent most of the day searching the pond for the talking frog."

"Whoa."

She nodded. "'Whoa' is right. My father whipped me good for that one."

"For turning the boy into a frog?"

She winked. "No, for kissing him in the first place."

Jess laughed and this time Julia joined him. It seemed everything was turning out okay. "So, did you turn him back into a boy?"

"Yes—well, the sorceress did. The boy avoided me like death for a long time after that, and later, when I grew into a woman, I found my magic was something I could use on purpose, to help people."

Jess felt his stomach sink. "Bet the boy hated you..."

She shook her head. "He was just as scared by what happened as was I." She smiled in a funny way. "We talked after a while and stayed friends."

"What happened to the boy?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Jess?" She pointed. "He's right over there."

Jess' gaze followed her to the stables, to where Tom was working.

His jaw dropped. As if hearing them, he looked up from his work at grooming Nova. He waved to them and Jess forced himself to wave back. He understood now; Tom was in love with Miss Edmunds but she also loved him back. Jess stole a quick glance at her as she waved to him. Her smile showed him the truth. There was a joy etched on her face like none Jess had ever seen.

"I can't believe you turned him into a frog."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jess—even people with magic."

He spoke without thinking. "That was a pretty stupid mistake." When he realized what he said, he felt his face go red. "Oh, Miss Edmunds, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

She patted his back. "It's all right Jess; it was a stupid mistake." She stared into the distance, like she was looking into her own memories and smiled. "In a very long line of stupid mistakes."

He frowned, wondering at what she said. "What other mistakes did you make?"

His question brought her back to the present. "Nevermind." Her face glowed red. Jess guessed he shouldn't have asked. "Why don't you go play," she offered. "It's a nice day and you should go find something fun to do."

As he stood, he felt a sweet relief pass through him.

The feelings he had for Miss Edmunds were genuine, but they could never be together. He knew that now. He laughed at himself for his foolishness and bowed, thanking Miss Edmunds for the talk.

He was just about to leave when Miss Edmunds called him back.

"What is it, Miss Edmunds?"

"Well, I was just wondering something." She wore a strange smile as she stood. Jess felt a strange calm descend upon him as she looked down at him with those wonderful sky-blue eyes. "Jess, if you could be an animal, what would you be?"

He blinked. "What? An animal?" the question stymied him. "Well, I don't know. I guess I'd be a dog or a fish or something."

He wanted to ask what she meant by that when she asked something else.

"Do you know where Leslie is today?"

He shrugged. "Probably reading or cooking something." It was one of their days off, days to do whatever they wanted without classes and learning. Most children played games or trained with weapons but Leslie liked to read when she wasn't required. Jess understood her desire but he preferred things that didn't require you to think too much.

"I-I could go fetch her for you," he offered. She laughed a little. He frowned. "Did-did I… say something funny, Miss Edmunds?"

She shook her head. "No, Jess. Please go and bring Leslie. Tell her I have something to share with you both." As she lowered herself to the bench, he took off toward the castle.

He ran through the halls at a brisk pace, asking the servants he passed if they had seen Leslie. Most hadn't but one pointed him in the direction of the kitchen, and when he arrived he found her stirring a pot of something.

He slipped up next to her.

"Smells good."

She jumped with a shriek. "Jess," she gasped, "you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?" She stood beside the pot and stirred in a few more things. There were many little bowls holding crushed things of various colors. As he watched, Leslie took up pinches of various spices and added them to the soup. The aromas were so wonderful, he almost forgot her question. "Ah, Miss Edmunds wants to see us right away."

Leslie gave him a worried look. "You didn't kiss her again, did you?"

Jess glowered. "No. She has something to share with us."

"Oh, okay." After wiping her hands on a sparkling clean white towel, she asked the cook to keep an eye on her soup and followed him out the door. Jess led her back to the courtyard and when he returned with Leslie in tow, he found Miss Edmunds where he had left her, still feeding birds as they descended for seeds.

When she saw them coming, she stood.

"So glad you could make it, Leslie."

Leslie wore a big grin. "I'm glad you offered, Miss Edmunds."

Jess looked between them, aware that he was not being told what they were there to be given. He expected nothing, but there was an odd feeling in his gut that told him to be ready. Miss Edmunds slipped close to them. "Are you ready, Leslie?"

"Um, no, Miss Edmunds. I mean, I am, but I think Jess should go first." She looked at him with a mischievous smirk. "He might be too scared to try it otherwise."

Miss Edmunds nodded. "So it shall be, Leslie."

Before he could ask what they were talking about, Julia touched his nose with the tip of her slender finger, sending a strange tingle through him. As he closed his eyes, Jess felt the warmth of her touch spread all the way down to his toes. He didn't understand why, but he suddenly felt something stirring inside him. He opened his eyes to ask her what she had done to make him feel so good. At the sight of her, he gasped aloud.

Miss. Edmunds was a giant.

As the tingling sensation flowed faster through his body, Jess watched her form growing and realized that he was slipping away from her. He looked to Leslie and found her to be sliding away as swiftly as Miss Edmunds.

Soon, they both towered over him.

"What… happened?" he asked, staring up at the two giants.

Leslie giggled. She spun to Miss Edmunds. "Maybe you better show him."

Miss Edmunds nodded and touched the tip of Leslie's nose in the same manner as she had his. Jess stood there watching helplessly as a strange lavender mist swirled about Leslie, seeping into her. She giggled as the mist shrank, bringing her down to his size. Jess felt his jaw hang agape as Leslie's fair skin and clothes sprouted brown fur.

"Leslie," he whispered in astonishment. "You're a squirrel!"

The squirrel Leslie had become looked at him and giggled. "Of course I am!"

Jess blinked at the sound of Leslie's voice coming from the squirrel. It was a wonder. "But I don't understand, Leslie. How can you talk?"

"For the same reason you can."

Jess didn't understand. He wanted to ask her what she was talking about. Leslie rolled her squirrel eyes and gestured for him to look down. He did and gaped at the sight.

Jess saw his hands were paws, and his arms were covered with brown fur. His eyes roamed over the expanse of a white, furry belly down to the powerful hind legs on which he stood. He looked back at Leslie, then down at himself again. He couldn't believe it.

He was a squirrel too.


	25. Chapter 25

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 25**

"Leslie," he gasped, "We're squirrels!"

She giggled again. "You're right, Jess." She slipped closer. "We are squirrels."

He felt his voice crack. "What do we do?" he asked, looking about in panic.

Leslie shrugged her furry shoulders. "We do whatever squirrels do."

He glanced up at the towering form that was Miss Edmunds. She smiled down at him. "How do you feel, Jess?"

He didn't know how to answer. He wanted to cry, to scream, to ask a dozen questions, but only one would come forth. "W-what did you do to us?"

"I changed you." She shooed him. "Now, go play."

Jess looked to Leslie and almost laughed. He thought that if a squirrel could look mischievous, it would look like her. She turned then and ran off across the grass, calling for him to try and catch her. He gave one last look to Miss Edmunds and when she nodded that it was okay, he bolted after Leslie. Jess felt the exhilaration of running like never before. He never had been able to go so fast, and still not get as far as he expected. As they raced around a tree, Jess couldn't help but wonder at how big everything seemed. He had never imagined he could be changed into something else. He wondered if Miss Edmunds could do other things; change him into a bird so he could fly or a horse so he could gallop or a snake so he could scare his mother. He wanted to try every animal he knew and every one he didn't. It would take time but Jess decided he would ask Miss Edmunds if it would be okay. He never wanted to impose upon her for anything but the thought of being any animal he wanted made him giddy.

As he chased Leslie up the tree, he wondered at his ability to climb without trouble. Leslie reached a branch and started out across it. "Leslie," he called, "wait for me!"

She didn't even slow down. Jess climbed faster, desperate to reach his friend. There were so many questions he had yet to ask, but first he had to catch her. Leslie reached the end of the branch and he thought for sure he had her, but as he closed, she spun back and leapt forward, soaring over his head, back towards the trunk. By the time he reversed his course and chased her down the tree, he was exhausted. She finally stopped running and came over to him. She seemed just as tired by their race as he felt. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I can't believe how much fun this is!"

"I know," she chittered. "We should get some nuts to eat."

"I see some over there," he said, "by the tree."

As she turned to look, he tackled her. They scrambled across the ground and Leslie slipped out of his furry grip, taking off towards the center of the lawn as Jess gave chase. "Can't catch me," she chattered. He tried his best but found after awhile he didn't know who was chasing whom. After awhile, they spent most of the morning chasing each other in a game of squirrel-tag and gathering nuts for a snack.

By lunch time, Leslie's mother had come out looking for her.

As Jess stood on his hind legs, intending to call out to her, Leslie nudged him with her furry elbow and chattered, "Watch this!"

She sped off towards her mother. Jess watched aghast as Judy looked about for her, unaware that Leslie had slipped under her mother's skirts. Jess held his breath and a moment later, Judy screamed. A number of soldiers immediately rushed over as Judy hopped about on one foot. Jess gaped at the sight of Lady Judy, her arms wind-milling as she danced about, shaking her leg, screaming as if she were being murdered. Jess knew that Leslie the squirrel was crawling up her mother's legs, giving her a fright. He started to laugh but as Judy started clawing at her skirts, swatting her legs, he was sure that Leslie would get squashed. He could only stare in amazement as the Duchess fell back, flailing into the arms of the soldiers who helped to steady her. After a few terrifying moments, Jess knew Leslie was safe when she slipped back out of her mother's fine dress and raced towards him. Miss Edmunds rushed over to a breathless Judy, asking her if she was all right. Judy frantically fanned her reddening face and nodded just as Leslie slipped up beside him.

Jess scolded her. "You shouldn't have done that, Leslie."

"Ah, c'mon, Jess, it was just a bit of fun!"

He was just about to tell her that her mother probably didn't think it much fun, when Miss Edmunds turned a hot glare on the two of them. It was as frightening a look as he had ever seen from her. She strode forward a step and snapped her fingers, pointing at the ground before her. Leslie hunched her squirrel shoulders and slowly crept back towards her mother and teacher. Jess crawled along at her side, his head similarly lowered. They both stopped before Miss Edmunds big shoes. She reached down and touched them both with the tips of her fingers. Jess felt his insides stirring as he returned to human form.

As soon as Leslie was human again, Judy grabbed her by the arm and delivered three swift swats to her behind. Leslie cried out, but with the way her bottom was cushioned by her soft skirts, Jess didn't think she was hurting too much. Still holding Leslie by the arm, Judy shook her finger at her and whispered something harshly. Jess watched Leslie's face turn red as she swallowed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Jess let out a breath. His father would have not been so merciful to her. If she pulled something like that back on the farm, Leslie would be lucky if she could still sit down. Judy's gaze slid to Jess and he suddenly felt as if he had done something wrong. "Please keep a better eye on her, Jess," she scolded in her most heated voice. "That is your job, is it not?"

It was his turn to swallow and nod. "Yes, ma'am." He bowed, afraid to meet her gaze. Keeping his eyes to the ground, he listened to Judy sigh.

"We have many things to prepare today. The festival approaches." She motioned to Leslie. "Take Jess inside and tell him what he needs to know to be ready."

Leslie nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She took his arm and pulled him towards the castle.

He wanted to apologize to the Duchess, but as they slipped away, he turned a hot glare on Leslie instead. "Thanks a lot."

She turned to him with a questioning frown. "What did I do?"

"You got me in trouble, Leslie. Again."

"Well, I didn't mean to cause any harm."

He rolled his eyes. "You _never_ mean to cause harm." As they approached the door, he added in a grumble, "But you always seem to cause me some kind of grief."

"Well, I'm sorry." They turned a corner and headed for the dining area. "I didn't think she'd be mad at you."

"Leslie, you need more discipline. I'm going to tell your mother that the next time you do something foolish, that Tom should give you a whipping."

She laughed at that but her mirth disappeared when she saw the look he was giving her. "But, Jess… you can't do that."

"I can if I think it keeps you out of trouble." He remembered his father's admonition that Leslie often got into things she shouldn't. "I mean it, Leslie." He shook a finger at her—the same was her mother did. "If you step out of line again, I'll have you over Tom's knee before supper." To make it worse, he added, "Perhaps _during _supper, so everyone can see that you're getting what you deserve."

Leslie face turned bright crimson. Her eyes were wide. "You wouldn't…"

He folded his arms. "Try me."

Her glare seem to darken the room but she pressed her lips together, not expressing her scalding sentiment and gave him instead a curt nod.

The matter settled, Jess motioned for her to lead the way to the dining area. He wanted to ask her about the festival but he decided to let her take the lead, to regain some dignity after being scolded by her valet. She walked in silence for a time, but when they reached the last leg of their journey, she spun to him heatedly. "The first thing you must remember at the midsummer festival, Jess Aarons, is that I am a noble. You must treat me with the proper respect. Don't talk to me like I'm your friend." She thought a moment. "In fact, it would be best if you didn't speak at all." She raised an eyebrow and leaned close to him. "Servants with still tongues tend to cause fewer problems."

Maintaining a grim face, he nodded that he understood. Leslie would normally try to downplay his role as servant to spare his feelings, but this was the midsummer festival. Jess didn't think she was making it up to be mean, but he reasoned that she wasn't holding back as she would have because she was angry with him. He guessed she couldn't be lenient on him if he was to attend such an important event so after holding her chair for her—and resisting the urge to pull it out from under her—Jess took his seat beside her.

Lunch was already being served, the boys bringing out bowls of the soup Leslie had been working on that morning. Jess asked questions of Leslie about what was expected and when she gave him curt answers, he filled his mind with thoughts of Tom punishing her. Jess reached for a spoon. Leslie smacked his hand. He dropped the silver spoon and glared at her. She returned the glare in kind as she took up a different spoon. "Use this one, Jess." Her teasing voice was as brittle as ice.

Jess put the spoon in the soup and began to stir. Jess knew how Leslie felt about Tom; the way she smiled shyly when he looked at her and how she blushed when he said how pretty she was becoming and he knew that the threat of being punished by the man she loved would be serious enough to keep her in line. It had to seem especially humiliating to her but he needed someone strong to put Leslie in her place. He was certain that his failure to control her antics that very afternoon had nearly gotten him expelled from the house. It also occurred to him that she needed to remember that she was but a child and that Tom was a man, that there was no point in having feelings for someone so much older than herself; it also occurred to Jess that if Miss Edmunds had given his own backside a swat or two, perhaps he wouldn't have tried to kiss her that horrible evening in the stables.

She was old enough to be a young mother after all.

And what was he, really?

A child. A boy she looked after sometimes.

He felt his face getting as hot as Leslie's imaginary behind. It bothered Jess to think of the woman he loved as his mother. He instead chose to think of her as an older sister, or kind aunt, but most of all, as a friend; someone with whom he could share things.

Jess glanced at Leslie when she cleared her throat. "You'll be expected to act like a gentleman." She gave him a meaningful look. "Everything you have learned in this house will be put to the test. The banquet at the end of the festival will be especially difficult for you as it is, primarily, a dance."

Jess swallowed a mouthful of hot soup. "D-dance?" She nodded. "B-but Leslie," he coughed, "I-I don't know how to dance."

She gave him an even look. "I thought as much, Jess. I wouldn't worry about it, though. You are only a servant and most aren't asked to dance with those they serve."

Jess tightened his grip on the spoon. He wanted to use it to smack her in her pompous head. He settled for setting it aside and picking up a piece of bread. He tore at it, letting his frustration play out as he dunked the bread pieces in the bowl and soaked them a bit before devouring them. He knew it wasn't proper table manners but he didn't care.

After lunch was finished, he stood and turned to leave. Thoughts of the dance crept into his mind along with his anger with Leslie and before he could make the door, he found a solution that would give him satisfaction. He spun back to the table and bowed before Miss Edmunds. "You have taught me much, Miss Edmunds. In preparation for the coming festival, I would be honored if you taught me to dance."

If Julia's expression was one of pleasant surprise, Leslie's was the opposite; she looked as if she were about to explode. Jess extended his hand and Julia rose regally to her feet. Jess kept his eyes on Leslie as they made their way to the center of the floor. He flashed Leslie his most terrible smirk, painfully aware of how much he must look like Scott Hoager when he did.

As the musicians began to play, he immediately wrapped his arms around Miss Edmunds. She cried out and looked down at him with an indulgent smile. "Uh, Jess, please remove your hand from my bottom."

He released her as if she were a snake. "S-sorry, Miss Edmunds, I didn't mean to…"

She shook her head and took his hands in hers, gently placing them on her narrow hips. Leslie's snicker made him blush. He wanted to glower at her, maybe even stick out his tongue, but looking up into Julia's smiling face made him forget all about Leslie. He loved how wonderful his dancing partner looked, and as he breathed deep her lavender scent he tried to relax. She placed her slender hands on his shoulders and led him slowly about the room, spinning and striding from side to side. "Move as I do, Jess." He nodded feeling so warm and safe in her gentle arms as they danced about, both humming with the music, letting the docile tones take them away.

After a while, Jess felt he was getting the hang of it. He barely even noticed when Tom interrupted. "May I cut in?"

Miss Edmunds looked down at Jess. "Would you mind?" Her voice was as soft as her turquoise dress as she leaned down and whispered, "I really would like to dance with Tom."

"S-sure, Miss Edmunds." He stood in place as she slipped away, twirling into Tom's strong arms. Jess stood there, hands in his pockets, feeling very foolish as they danced away.

A gentle hand slipped into his. He turned to see Leslie smiling at him. "Care to dance?"

He smiled back and wrapped his arms around her. As the music began another tune, he spun her. She cried out as she twirled to the floor, landing hard on her bottom. The music stopped as Jess rushed to her side. "Oh, Leslie!" he cried, "I'm sorry!"

She waved off his concern and accepted Tom and Julia's hands. As she came to her feet, she assured everyone that she was all right. "Maybe you shouldn't dance until you learn to control your strength," Miss Edmunds suggested. As Jess stammered an apology, Leslie brushed off her skirts and fixed her long golden hair. He stood still as stone as she came over and offered him another try. As he reluctantly wrapped his arm around her waist, she put her head beside his and whispered gently, "Just let me lead this time."

He swayed with her gently, letting the music guide his movements. It seemed much more natural to dance with someone his own size. Jess thought her an even better dancer than Miss Edmunds. Leslie led him as she always did and the dance was successful.

Jess smiled at how, when Leslie was near, everything always seemed to turn out right.

* * *

"So, what's it like?" he asked. "The palace I mean; is it as big as your castle?"

She turned to give him a meaningful look. "No. It's much bigger."

Jess swallowed at the thought. The castle was the biggest place he had ever seen. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that any place could be so massive. To think that the place they were to be heading was even bigger…

"So, who will be there?"

Leslie sighed. "Mrs. Myers and Miss Edmunds will be there, of course, along with me and most of my family and you. Aside from the servants and guards we take with us, the other noble families and their servants will be there—about a dozen families, at least."

"At least?"

Leslie hooked some blonde hair behind an ear and she cleared her throat. "Well, there will also be the King and his family along with his advisors, attendants and more soldiers than you can imagine. There will also be a plethora of wizards and other magical people." She leaned close and spoke in her secret tone. "The King has many in his employ."

Jess sat back on his bed. They had danced for most of the afternoon and Leslie had been answering all his questions about what to expect but he still didn't feel prepared. He rubbed his sore feet and tried to ask another question, one he thought would give him a better idea of the festival. "Will there be games at the festival, like in Westwood?"

She turned from the window. "Of course." She sat next to him and smiled. "It will be much like the festival in your hometown, just bigger."

Jess wondered at how much bigger it was. From Leslie's descriptions, it sounded like the largest place in the entire kingdom. Seeing as it was the crown city, he guessed maybe it was. Everything would be different and while he looked forward to experiencing the differences he was also a little put off by them.

As he fell back onto the bed, he laid his arm across his eyes and thought about the farm and how at home nothing ever changed.

* * *

As Mary glanced about the farm she wondered at how everything had changed. As she dropped the extra carrots into the rabbit's cage, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of the docile creatures. They were getting fatter. Soon their little wooden cage wouldn't be able to hold them. It was just as well, seeing as market day was just around the corner. The extra rabbits they bred this month would bring in some extra coin. _Not that we need it,_ Mary mused. The stipend they received from Jess' work at the castle more than covered their expenses.

It had been several months since Jess had left for the castle and in all that time, so much had changed. As Mary shifted the load of vegetables in her arms, she gazed out at her magnificent garden, considering the nature of the change. Her garden was once so small and overgrown with weeds that it seemed a struggle to get any vegetables out of the ground at all.

Now there were many varieties of fruits and vegetables available to her, as well as a multitude of herbs. Her family had always eaten well enough, but with the garden's growth, they were enjoying a variety normally reserved for the wealthy. She supposed they were wealthy now. Mary missed her son terribly but the family was more than prosperous and had taken to enjoying the windfall their son had brought them with great revelry. Of course, when the Duke had taken him in, Mary knew her family would be successful but she never imagined it could be quite so prosperous. Everyone in town treated them differently now, tipping their hats and waving hello when they saw her at market, asking how her family fared when she attended the temple service and seeming to notice her more often than they once had. Of course, her new dresses didn't hurt. It seemed that their becoming wealthy was news that interested everyone.

The self-serving smiles often sickened her and Mary found herself wishing on more than one occasion that they would slip and ask what they really wanted to know.

"How's your _money_, Mrs. Aarons?"

Mary laughed. No one would ever say such a thing aloud but it felt good to speak the words. She knew that people saw her family—now one of the wealthiest in the area—as a means to greater wealth. Her husband had found a new job almost immediately and actually turned down several offers before accepting a position with the local carpenter. Mary was grateful for the offers of help and compliments on her family's new clothes—backhanded as they were—for with all the money they had spent on the new house, new furniture and new toys for May belle, they were going to need extra to feed themselves for a while.

Their new house was far grander than anything she ever thought she could own. So many years ago, her father had chosen Jack to be her husband because he was hardworking and honest, not because of wealth. Jack had always been good to her and she dearly loved him but it was undeniably satisfying to be allowed a nice home in which to live. She wished her parents were still alive to see what their joining had brought.

As she wiped the sweat from her brow, Mary cast a glance at the darkening sky. As she looked back towards the house, she could hear the sounds of arguing drifting down from the open upstairs window. The piercing cries of her eldest daughters frayed her nerves. She was a hairsbreadth from calling them all down for punishment when she heard them stop. Mary sighed, relieved they had at last settled whatever was bothering them.

Mary had always been grateful for her abundance of daughters but lately she felt the hope grow stronger that they would move away and start their own families. She bit back a laugh at the knowledge that unruly children were a part of that dream and didn't deny a certain satisfaction when she thought of the visits she would make to see how they were getting on, only to hear them complain about how difficult her grandchildren were.

Ellie had moved away and become pregnant by Henry, a good man Jack had brought home for her. He had a warm nature, a kind of gentle spirit that reminded her very much of her own husband. She hoped Ellie was happy with him. Living far away wasn't a pleasant part of the deal, but they were together and Mary was happy for the two of them.

As she turned towards the house, Mary paused. It startled her to see such a grand place. The building was twice the size of their old home with two stories and several bedrooms.

Wondering if jess would be home to visit, she slipped in the back door—smiling at the new experience of actually having a door—and into the dining room.

Everything was different inside as well. The floors were a polished mahogany covered with carpets and the fire burned in a fireplace, with a proper chimney to let out the smoke. Mary laughed a little at the sight of her beautiful home.

She didn't think she would ever get used to such things as feather beds and comfortable chairs and a table with a tablecloth and sturdy legs that kept it from wobbling. She straightened the bowl of fruit that was the centerpiece and smoothed the edges of the pristine tablecloth. Supper would be ready soon and she began setting the goblets and fine flatware out for her family. May belle was supposed to help, but Mary wanted to let her play a little longer with the new dolls she had received from her father.

Mary checked on the stew she had cooking. The surface of the stew bubbled, the steam carrying a delightful scent and the promise of a good meal. Mary leaned close and inhaled a deep breath, savoring the tangy aroma. She added a handful of spices, brushing them off her palm into the cook-pot and stirring it awhile before setting down the old wooden spoon. As the stew simmered, she stretched and took a seat in her favorite chair.

Mary looked around the room and sighed. So much had changed. Ever because her son brought home a new friend. Leslie had been good for him. She had helped Jess in so many ways and now she was helping them too. Mary reached out and lifted the latest letter from their new table. Jess wrote every month about the things he learned and the fun he was having with Leslie. Mary was delighted to hear that her son was enjoying himself and Jack was grateful that his only boy was working so hard.

After spending a few minutes reading about her son's latest exploits, Mary called everyone down for supper, smiling as Brenda and May belle descended the stairs like regal ladies, both in their finest dresses. Before she could ask, they set to work serving the soup and filling the goblets among excited conversation.

Mary sighed as she continued to read Jess' letter. She rubbed a hand smoothly over her belly and thought of Jack, still at work and unaware of how much more his house would change.

It would be a few more days before she told her husband that she was pregnant.


	26. Chapter 26

Whoa! More than a month since my last update! where does the time go? I apologize for my lack of diligence. I took some time off to rest. After six months of steady chapter posting, I felt entitled to a vacation. Time to get back in, if any of you fans are still interested. Only about five more chapters left after this, so as we enter the final stretch, I'd just like to thank you all for your faithful dedication to this incredible story.

And now, _The New Life _continues...

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* * *

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**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 26**

Jess wandered about as he had for days, feeling useless among the chaos. Everywhere he went it seemed there was something happening that he couldn't help with.

The festival was approaching and everyone in the castle was preparing for the long journey to the capital. Everywhere he went, men lifted and loaded things, hauling everything from trunks filled with clothes, to shields and swords, while others tended their horses or discussed what they would do when they arrived. Countless arrangements were made. Jess had to stand aside and let another group of people pass. As he turned a corner he saw that the Duke was walking swiftly through the castle, surrounded by servants all clamoring for orders about what to take, what to leave and what to tell others to take and leave. As he directed them to their tasks, they peeled away only to be replaced by many others demanding their Lord's attention. Jess marveled at how busy everyone seemed and how deftly capable his lord seemed at handling them. The noise alone was more than distracting. The halls were usually quiet except for a pair of guards telling a joke or a servant rushing so as not to be late. Now the whole place was abuzz with excitement. It seemed everyone had something to do but him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, feeling once again like a useless nothing. Leslie was picking out her favorite dresses and books to pack for the long journey. Jess had already packed his things in his trunk and was ready to go. There wasn't much for him to bring and he didn't want to be reprimanded for bothering people with useless questions, so he took to walking the length of the castle, savoring the myriad activities buzzing about him. He had no actual destination, but as he climbed and descended several stairs he found himself wandering into a very specific hallway.

He stopped as he rounded the corner. He knew what lay ahead.

This was the hall of the most important people. The Duke's bedchamber was ahead and as well as the private chambers of Miss Julia Edmunds. Jess turned to leave, not wanting to trespass on what seemed sacred ground, but something told him not to be a coward.

After all, what harm could there be in visiting his favorite teacher? He could see if she was ready for tomorrow and possibly needed any help.

Deciding to be responsible, Jess turned back down the hall and headed straight for her room. He halted before her door. There was one chance to turn back but he shook such thoughts away. What was he scared of anyway? Miss Edmunds was nice and she liked him. He was just being silly. Still, he had never been inside his teacher's chambers and as he raised his fist to knock, he wondered if what he was doing wasn't entirely appropriate. Jess sighed and taking one last look around, knocked on the heavy wooden door.

A moment later, the door swung inward and a face appeared.

Tom smiled.

"Hey, Jess. Something wrong?"

Jess stood speechless a moment. He didn't expect he had the wrong room. "Uh, I was just…"

"Tom?" The voice stopped Jess' useless stammering. He felt a flutter in his heart as the voice came closer. "Who is it?"

Tom stepped aside as the opened fully revealing Miss Edmunds.

Her lovely raven hair was tousled and wet. Jess wondered if he had interrupted her bath. As she placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, Jess took in the sight of her bare legs sticking out beneath her lavender robe and swallowed. Her voice brought his eyes back up to hers. "Jess…"

"Miss Edmunds." He bowed low, relieved that he had chosen the right door after all but suddenly mortified to find her in such a condition. "I thought you might require some help packing." As he saw Tom slip his hand around her narrow waist and pull her close, Jess felt his face heat at his own presumption. She clearly had all the help she needed. "I-I'm sorry, Miss Edmunds, I'll come back later if—"

"Don't be silly, Jess, com on in."

Jess fidgeted as she stepped aside, holding a hand out in invitation. He lowered his head and murmuring his thanks, stepped into Miss Edmunds private rooms. He didn't move, afraid to do something foolish, contenting himself to just stand in the center of a lavender carpet, inhaling the sweet scent of the woman he loved. He never imagined he would be standing in her rooms. He took note of how quiet it was, how it seemed a sanctuary. He had almost forgotten he wasn't alone.

"Maybe I should check on Nova," Tom offered. "I better make sure she's ready for the trip." He gave Julia a deep kiss and excused himself. Jess waved to him as he left. As Miss Edmunds watched him leave, she sighed. Jess recognized the look on her face; he thought it must be how he looked when he stared at Miss Edmunds. It was a look of love.

"Um, Miss Edmunds?"

She looked down at him and the wistful smile faded. "Yes, Jess? Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if you needed me for anything." He looked around the splendor of her outer room, fairly certain that his own room would fit with room to spare. Not wanting to gaze at Miss Edmunds with only a thin silk robe between them, he redirected his gaze toward the open doors of her elegant bedchamber. He could see her bed hadn't been made and that there were a few things that still needed to be packed.

"Actually, there are a few things left to prepare," Julia stammered, seeming suddenly shy. She strode over to a dressing screen and cast him a reproachful look when he tried to follow. Jess realized the screen was meant for privacy and that he was invading it. He backed away, casting his gaze about for something—anything—to help her with.

"I'm glad to see you, Jess," she called from the other side of the screen. "I wanted to let you know that we won't be neglecting you lessons while we travel. You have too much work to catch up on." Jess listened intently to her words, catching the soft rustle of fabric as she slipped on a dress. Jess thought her words sounded rushed, like she didn't find it comfortable to be in the room with him. "You and Leslie are both doing very well, though. I'm proud of you both."

"Thank you," he managed. The notion that she was proud of him filled him with pride in himself. He turned to sneak a look at the shield. The thought of beautiful Julia's naked form not ten feet from him made his mouth go dry. He wanted to say something witty, but she came out then, fully dressed and proper.

"How do I look?"

As her slender hands smoothed the rich lavender satin at her narrow hips, he heard himself assure her that she looked lovely. She beamed. Jess felt his heart lift at the sight of such a wonderful smile. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't think of anything.

As she strode towards the bed chamber, Jess watched her elegant lavender dress sway. He always thought she looked lovely in lavender. It was becoming his favorite color. As she took a seat at the dressing table, she asked him how things were progressing with his own packing.

"Oh, they're fine," he assured her. "I didn't have much to do."

She ran a brush through her raven hair, asking him about Leslie. He wished she wouldn't mention his best friend. He didn't like to think of anyone else when he was with Miss Edmunds. He wanted to say that he knew she was fine, but he hadn't seen much of her that day. He settled for shrugging. She sang softly as she worked and when she finished brushing out her long dark hair and resumed her packing, Jess busied himself with looking about and savoring what seemed an otherworldly experience: standing in his teacher's bed chamber.

As he watched her folding clothes and pulling dresses out of her wardrobe, he ambled over to the dressing table, taking in the lingering scent of perfume she had applied. He found bottles of more perfume, squirrel-hair brushes and all sorts of silver trays and tins with powders. He wondered at what it all was but dared not ask. Julia started singing softly to herself as she went about packing. Jess contented himself with being invisible and as he listened to the sounds of Miss Edmunds singing, he noticed a small polished maple box. His hand strayed towards it. The surface of the box was smooth to the touch. He wanted to ask what was inside it, but instead found himself lifting the lid.

He stared in fascination at the wand inside.

As he plucked it up, surprised by the weight of the thin stick, he felt the soft hand of his music teacher gently take the wand from his fingers. He turned in place to stare up into her beautiful blue eyes. "This isn't a toy, Jess."

He felt his face heat. "I-I'm sorry Miss Edmunds. I-I didn't mean to…"

She gently shushed him. "It's okay." She sat on the little chair and beckoned him to come closer.

He came forward

His eyes never left the thin white stick held daintily in her fingers. She turned it slowly, seeming to consider what to do next. She tapped the end of the wand to the palm of her other hand as her blue eyes searched his. "Do you know what this is, Jess?"

"A wand?"

"Very good. It's a wand of a special nature," she added. "It was gifted to me by my teacher when I became a sorceress." She held it out for him to see. "It was carved from the horn of a unicorn."

A Unicorn! Jess had read about unicorns. In his studies he had learned that they were exceptionally rare and elusive creatures, appearing only to people of great benevolence, that they revealed themselves reluctantly, as unicorns were sought after for the unique properties of their singular horns. It was even widely known that their horns could be used to defeat poisons. That Julia had a wand craved from a unicorn horn was surprising and somewhat intriguing. "What can it do?"

"Well, it can heal and it can curse. I think the best thing about a wand like this is that it can induce dreams." She smiled a little. "Would you like a dream, Jess?"

He wasn't sure what she meant so he nodded.

She waved the tip of the wand over his head in small circles. He felt a strange kind of peace come over him. The rush of warmth felt intoxicating. He thought he might faint. Just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling faded, leaving him feeling somewhat forsaken. Miss Edmunds asked if he enjoyed it. He assured her he did.

Jess knew magic when he felt it and that was the best kind.

At dinner that evening, Jess spoke very little. Everyone else spoke excitedly about the impending festival and the long journey to the crown city. Jess didn't have anything to say about it since it was his first time ever visiting such a grand place. He contended himself with listening to all the gossip and plans everyone was making.

Leslie seemed to notice his lack of enthusiasm and asked what was wrong. He assured her that he was fine, that he was looking forward to the next day's journey with great anticipation. Inside, he felt as nervous as his father used to make him feel. Jess wondered what amazing sights he would see and how he would remember to tell his family about the festival. He remembered well the festivals he had seen throughout his life. He always thought they were a grand affair of the utmost opulence. He realized now that little town celebrations couldn't begin to compare with what was coming. It all seemed to be suddenly overwhelming. He sighed. For the first time since coming to work for Leslie's family, Jess wished he could just go back home.

Jess took one last look around. His room was quiet. There was nothing left to pack. He was ready. As he headed for the door, he ran a hand back through his hair.

000

After a full three days of preparation, the time had come to travel to the crown city to attend the mid-summer festival. He was glad to be heading out at last. As he closed the door to his room, he let out a deep sigh. Jess had the feeling that something was changing. It was something important. He guessed he was just nervous.

When he entered the courtyard's cool air, he found the carriage waiting for him. The door was open and the Duke and Duchess were both climbing aboard. He looked about and found Leslie talking to Tom. In the dark of pre-dawn, many servants rushed about gathering things, calling out to others, loading supplies into wagons and trying their best to finish their work before the sunrise. As the first rays of dawns light broke over the castle walls, it seemed the final moment had arrived. Leslie spotted him came over, wishing Tom a safe journey. As she walked towards him, Jess headed towards the carriage. Smiling, Jess reached the carriage and as Leslie met him there, he helped her up, as was his duty. He grabbed the insides of the coach and stepped up into it himself, casting one last look at the courtyard before closing the door. He sat beside Leslie across from her parents. As the whip cracked and the coach leapt forward, Jess clutched the seat, gasping a sharp breath.

He knew beyond doubt that he had just begun the most exciting journey of his entire life.


	27. Chapter 27

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 27**

The boredom was the worst. It wasn't the heat, oppressive and constant like he was wrapped in wool or the jolt of the carriage or the persistent snoring of the girl next to him; it was the absolute, mind-numbing boredom. He didn't think he could stand it. As they turned another bend in the road, Jess clutched the seat and tilted to the side as he had been instructed. Undisturbed by the sudden movement, Leslie still snoozed peacefully, her head resting on his shoulder. He stroked a hand down her long, golden hair and smiled. The ride was long, tedious and turbulent but Leslie was able to sleep through a great deal. She had never snored when she slept beside him on the farm but something about the carriage ride, her parents said, made her sleepy and made her snore. Jess smiled at her parents from across the carriage. Most of their time together had been spent exchanging stories about Leslie, her parents telling him of the mischief she caused back when she was little and Jess of more recent events. Jess had found that Leslie had always been a handful even from the time before she could talk, crawling around and exploring her room and later running through the halls before she ran away.

"She was always a precocious child," the Duke complained, but the light that shined in his eyes when he said it was a beacon of pride. Jess understood the sentiment. He ran a hand down Leslie's long, golden hair, thinking how proud he was of her. As she slept, he told Lord and Lady Burke of how hard she worked on the farm and how she got into her fair share of trouble. He never mentioned his father's taking her over his knee, but he shared without hesitation the stories of how she made everyone laugh with her wit and charm. She was the best friend he ever had and she taught him so much. Lord and Lady Burke, for the most part, listened attentively to the tales of their daughter's exploits, nodding in understanding of the things Jess told them that Leslie had said and laughing at hearing how she had been kicked stark naked into the pond for a bath. Jess had expected them to be concerned but the Duke found the tale a proper one for later telling, at supper perhaps, when he thought it would make Leslie blush and chide him with cries of "Father!"

Jess begged them not to tell that story for fear Leslie would be angry with him. They agreed for his sake, but said they would never forget the image it brought to their minds and how it suited her to be given a push when she needed it. Jess silently thanked his sister Brenda; she was a mean girl to live with but she had provided a bit of fun.

As they passed by the farm, Jess peeked out the window at where his home still stood. He felt pride swell up at the sight of the grand house his parents had built with the money the Duke had sent and felt a surge of further pride at knowing he had helped provide that money by taking care of Leslie. Jess had written to his parents every month, telling them of what he learned and how much fun he was having and they had written back about all they were doing with the money they had received as recompense for his departure. After seven months, Jess thought that his family was the richest in town.

Jess never really thought he could bring such prosperity to his family, especially by leaving but he had done what he could for them and he couldn't have been happier.

If only Leslie would stop snoring…

When night fell, they spent their evenings in the finest inns in towns and cities unlike any Jess had ever seen. A farm boy like him had never been farther north than Westwood and to see other places was a wonder. He enjoyed spending his time traveling with the Burkes and as they made their way north, they were joined by many more soldiers from Leslie's family's estates. Jess supposed the Duke and his family needed such escorts to protect them on their way to the crown city and he marveled at how many men bore the symbol of the House of Burke. Jess observed Tom riding Nova alongside the carriage that bore Miss Edmunds. She spoke to him through the window and laughed at something he told her. Jess envied them. As much as he enjoyed talking with the Burkes, Jess had grown very fond of Tom and Miss Edmunds was still his love. He wished he could speak to them for a while but kept the thought to himself.

As the days turned into weeks, the cities they visited grew larger. Jess marveled at the sights of the large communities, noting that some were the size of Millsburg and some were even bigger. Leslie told him the crown city was larger still. "Believe me," she said, stifling a yawn, "You haven't seen anything yet."

Jess didn't really know what she meant by that but he hoped it meant their destination held more wonders than he had seen. He realized for the first time that they were heading toward a place no one from his home had ever been, a place of meeting for the most important people in their entire Kingdom. He knew he should be patient, but the excitement of that realization was making him itch. He wanted to be there to see the people, the wizards and warlocks, the nobles and royalty.

As the days past, Jess worried over how he would act. He hoped he wouldn't faint.

At last, after an interminably long day a messenger rode up to the carriage window and announced that they were approaching the crown city. Jess lit up, helping Leslie come awake. He wanted to leap out of the carriage and see the sights but he didn't dare.

As Leslie sat up and rubbed her eyes, Jess shook with excitement.

They had finally arrived.

000

Music floated to them as the carriage approached their destination. Jess sat back atop the driver's seat and took in the sight of the crown city in its entire splendor. Before he met Leslie, the town of Westwood was as big as anything Jess could have imagined. Sine he had come to work for the Burkes he had seen places that made his hometown seem not but a thatched hut. But none of the grand cities he had seen on his way to their destination could prepare him for the sight of the crown city of Ashura.

As they crested a rise, the sprawling city at last came into view. It stretched as far as his eyes could see. He had never imagined something as vast as Ashura could ever exist.

The stone wall surrounding the city was larger than anything he had ever seen, blocking his view of much of the front of the city as they approached. Leslie was still in the carriage but he wished she could see what he now glimpsed. The driver beside him was a kind old man, letting him sit up beside him and even steer the horses awhile and as they drew closer, the sound of trumpets and drums and flutes and pipes flowed over Jess, welcoming him into the home of the King. The first part of their procession began to funnel through the gates to the city and Jess knew it would be a few minutes before their carriage would enter the massive portal.

The sounds of cheering and laughter accompanied the endless cacophony of musical accompaniment and at last they approached the main gates of the city, standing open to welcome the countless thousands of people filing in form afar and joining the shifting crowds. The noise was deafening. The cobblestone streets were flooded with more people than Jess could even imagine. Commoners and soldiers, merchants and gamblers, from the well-dressed and respected, to the shabby and unshaven were all talking, eating, and playing games, singing, dancing and cheering. It seemed to Jess as nothing more than the largest festival he had ever glimpsed. It put the harvest festival in Westwood to shame.

The spectacle of so many people enjoying themselves was enough to overwhelm him. He wondered if those he left back home were even aware of how trivial their mediocre celebrations really were. He wondered if everyone would ever believe him about all the things he witnessed. He wondered if he even believed it himself. Everywhere he looked there were jugglers and acrobats and musicians and tables with contests of skill, with people laughing and singing and dancing in several places all at once. Jess wondered how he could hope to see even half of what happened during the massive three-day event. Eventually he realized that one couldn't hope to experience everything and he would simply have to enjoy what he could and hope he didn't miss anything important.

A few more hours of steady travel took the procession towards the implacable majesty of the distant palace. Jess kept his eyes ahead. As the mist cleared, the place seemed to appear like something out of a dream, towers and spires shining in the morning light, welcoming all with its majesty and splendor.

The soldiers weren't allowed past a certain point and as they peeled away, Jess noticed their own pace was quickening. Without the press of so many soldiers to keep them safe the carriages and servant wagons slipped more easily through the crowds, especially when the crowds thinned as they reached the wealthier districts. Jess knew from what Leslie had told him that they were to spend the majority of their time in the best part of the city, near the royal palace and the large houses of wealthy merchants and that the final evening's event would be a royal ball inside the palace itself. The sights he had seen while coming into the city were mostly for peasants and he knew that he would not likely be returning to that part of the city until it was time to return home. The streets became clearer as they widened, the people strolling along comfortably in fine clothes observing the modest tables and games. The large houses and shops along the sides of the street grew grander as the cobblestone street opened enough to let the procession of servants, messengers, wagons and carriages through without reaching the distant edges of the main road. Jess noticed large tress lining the edges of the street arrayed systematically before the finest inns he had ever seen. He wondered which they would be staying in for their long visit to the greatest city in the kingdom.

He glanced ahead, certain he would have a clear view of the palace by now. Jess gaped at the sight of it. It was even more impressive up close. The imposing might and majesty of the place almost seemed to be calling to him with both welcome and warning.

In the misty distance the home of the King stood alone atop an island in the center of what Leslie had called the lake of Destiny. Several stone bridges linked it to the city proper and Jess noticed for the first time the guards standing watch on both sides of the bridge ahead. Light glinted off their helmets and fine armor as they stood at stiff attention or patrolled the ground in well-disciplined groups. Their uniforms were fine white shirts under blue tunics bearing the golden image of the griffin, the symbol of the Royal House.

Jess knew by Leslie's stories that they were the Royal guards of Arkahna, the finest soldiers in the Kingdom.

As their carriage rolled to a stop at the side of the wide street, the driver nudged him with his bony elbow. Jess nodded that he understood and immediately climbed down and opened the door for Leslie. Giving her a hand down, he stepped aside as Leslie stepped into the clean street. They looked about a moment, admiring the view and savoring the fact that they had finally arrived. As she turned to him Jess asked which inn they would occupy. Leslie laughed. "We're not staying at an inn, Jess."

Jess frowned. "What? Are we going to sleep in the street?"

"No." She pointed to one of the larger buildings. "My family owns that house."

Jess stood back, taking in the sight as the carriage pulled away. They were to become settled while Leslie's parents visited the palace and made their arrival official. Jess was pleased to see both Miss Edmunds and Tom were there to look after them and as the servants began unloading the trunks from their wagons, Jess wondered at how everything would fit into their rooms. Judging by the size of the place, he guessed they'd have room to spare. Leslie took the lead and led them through the front door. Jess gazed about the room, taking in everything. It was a grand place, as impressive inside as it was outside. The furniture was richly decorated, with velvet upholstered chairs and couches beside walnut tables. There were red velvet seats trimmed in gold and every single thing looked as if it would cost him much more than the mere seven gold crowns he carried. He glimpsed several servants sweeping floors, polishing tables and replacing flowers in vases. As Leslie led him to the center of the room, they were immediately greeted by a servant in fine clothes who wasted no time in bowing to Leslie. "Ah, welcome home, my dear lady. I trust your journey was pleasant."

"As much as could be expected," Leslie said in a flat tone. Jess recognized it as her business voice. She held up a hand. "This is Jess, my new valet." The man dipped his head to him and Jess bowed in response. Leslie yawned. "Please show us to our rooms, James. We're both very eager to settle in for the day."

James bowed again. "Of course, my lady, of course." He immediately turned on his heel and led them both up a wide-set staircase to the upper floor. The servants followed carrying their trunks as Leslie and Jess marched up the mahogany stairs to the grandest of rooms he had seen since departing the castle in Millsburg.

As soon as they entered their room, Leslie took him into the bedchamber and closed the door while the servants rushed about unpacking her clothes and other things in the common room. As soon as the door was secure, Leslie turned to him, folding her arms across her chest. "I hope you don't plan to act like that when we enter the palace."

"What-what are you talking about," he stammered. "I was just…"

"Look, I know this is an amazing place but you have to behave like you belong here." Leslie took his hand and led him to the windows. "It's just a city, nothing more. Just behave like I do and everything will be fine."

He followed her gaze through the glass and saw a few people milling about. A mother pulled a child along down the street as wagons and horses and men in uniforms moved like they had somewhere to be.

Jess wondered where he was supposed to be at that moment.

Leslie settled into her room, sharing a quiet meal with him while finishing the last of her instructions on what to expect and what was expected of him. He wanted to be ready, but when he tried to ask more questions, she told him not to worry, that he would be fine.

They spent their next days exploring the festivities, Leslie enjoying the games of chance and Jess wanted to see every juggler and acrobat, musician and performer in the festival. The only thing they avoided was the bearbaiting, where a large angry bear would be held by chains and assaulted by a pack of dogs to the cheers of the crowd. Leslie would pull away from him, groaning about how barbaric she thought it seemed. Jess couldn't argue with her assessment but he was quick to point out that bears were monstrous creatures that wouldn't think twice about eating her if they got the chance.

Upon hearing this, she scowled at him. "Actually, Jess, from what I've read, bears are very social creatures with families and friends. They're a lot like us, if you care to think about it—except I don't know many bears that would hurt me for nothing more than the contents of my purse."

Jess shrugged. He knew she was right of course; people could be much crueler than bears. He conceded her point as he led her away from the sight. Leslie mumbled that she wished the King would put a stop to it. Jess bought her a fried bread cake to ease her discomfort and take her mind off things she couldn't change. He liked the way Leslie cared about everyone—even the predators—but some things just couldn't be helped.

Jess suspected that her future bothered her more than the bearbaiting—that she was able to relate to its helplessness. She was soon to be surrounded by dogs that would devour her life to the cheers of the crowd. Jess had never thought of a wedding as something cruel before. Boring, perhaps, but never cruel.

Of course being forced to marry someone you didn't love was different.

His sister's wedding had been pleasant enough. He remembered reading about the way half the town fussed over the celebration, mother and Brenda and half a dozen other women buzzing about Ellie like bees, painting her face, putting flowers in her hair and shooing away any boy that got too close. Jess remembered reading how nervous Ellie seemed, but that she also appeared excited to finally be marrying someone. Henry was a good man and Jess knew he would make her happy. From the letter Jess could also tell that the feast was grand, the wedding cakes piled so high it was thought they surely would topple and as Ellie and Henry reached over the cakes, they kissed and the crowd erupted. It was reported to be a time of celebration. It was something Jess was sorry he missed.

Four months had passed since that time. Ellie was with child now and Jess would soon be an uncle. He still couldn't believe it. Everything seemed so wonderful.

But Leslie could never have that.

Her marriage would be a business arrangement, a contract between two noble houses, nothing more. Jess wished he could do something to change that but her father's words echoed through him, destroying his dream. _Only the King can nullify a marriage._ He sighed. There was no way to help Leslie so Jess contented himself with the festival, the colors and wonders and splendors, the limitless sights, sounds and smells of activity. He listened to music and stories and joked with Leslie and helped her forget what was to come and as the sun set on their first day in the city, they finally retired to their rooms.

Jess lounged in his bed and tried to think of a way to help his friend but sleep found him long before he could find the answer.


	28. Chapter 28

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 28**

The three days of celebration in Ashura were the most memorable of his entire life. Everywhere he went there was something new to explore, to taste, to smell, to try, to touch and experience. The food was abundant, the music and fun plentiful. He expected nothing less of course; the midsummer festival was without a doubt the most important day of the year. But while the people of the crown city were in a jovial mood, Leslie slipped deeper and deeper into depression. It seemed the closer they came to the final day of the festival the more withdrawn she became. Jess tried to distract her by joining her side at the tournament contests. They were held in special sections of the city and were by far the most exciting part of the celebration. Tom was a favored competitor and Leslie managed to break from her glum mood long enough to cheer him when he took the field.

Tom had entered the swordsmanship, jousting and archery competitions and was doing quite well in all three. They watched his events with high expectations. Leslie remarked that he was sure to take the trophy this year and that it was Jess' chance to see the royal family, as the King himself would present the prizes to the winners.

Jess, Leslie and Miss Edmunds were at the sidelines to watch the jousting match when Jess caught a glimpse of the King. He was sitting tall in a high-backed chair watching the preparations of Tom and the final challenger. Jess held his breath as the King stood, his crimson cape billowing in the wind.

The entire crowd fell silent as he raised his regal hand.

The King looked magnificent, Jess thought, not old like he expected, but old enough to sport a full neatly trimmed black beard. His golden crown rested atop his noble head of jet black hair, which swept back at the sides as if caught in the wind. An elegant sword gleamed at his hip, beside black trousers and boots. He called out to the crowd that the final match was about to begin. Everyone cheered. Jess was spellbound by the sound of his loud voice, not harsh as he expected but strong and commanding nonetheless, the way a king should speak. He watched the King nod to a man with a trumpet and resume his place on his throne. As the trumpet blared announcing the start of the last round of the tournament, the King looked to the woman next to him and smiled. Jess knew the lady could only be his wife, the High Queen of Arkahna. She was a beautiful young woman; her long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders reminded Jess of his distant mother. He stood watching her a moment as she returned the Kings smile and said something he couldn't hear. Her violet dress shone in the summer sun like a beautiful flower. Jess reminded himself to purchase a violet dress for May belle while he had the chance.

His little sister loved purple. Jess remembered how she always seemed to be trying to grow her purple flowers. His family could never before afford the expense of violet clothing, a color favored by the nobility and royalty, but now Jess could buy a dress that would make her the envy of everyone back home, a dress that would make her seem a violet flower herself. He smiled at the thought of her joyous face and returned his attention to the joust.

At the waving of a flag, the rides spurred their horses, charging towards each other at blinding speed. The crash of their lances sent splinters flying as the crowd responded with their customary cheers of victory or groans of disappointment.

After a moment it became clear that Tom had won the championship.

The crowd roared their approval as Tom removed his helmet. His face shone with sweat as he smiled broadly. Leslie and Jess cheered him. He'd done it. He'd won.

As he stood in a line with the champions of other contests, the king stood and lauded their accomplishments. They received gilded statuettes for their victories and as the King handed them to the winners Leslie applauded. As they raised their trophies to the sky the crowd erupted into similar applause.

Jess watched Leslie cheer, her beaming smile shining bright. He knew she had forgotten all about the dark evening ahead. For a brief moment, she was happy again.

000

Leslie and Jess spent the final hours of the last day of the festival in their town house with Leslie's parents and Miss Edmunds and Tom. After a light meal, they all bathed before changing into their finest clothes for the royal ball. Jess wore his blue shirt under his black vest with matching trousers, his uniform kept clean by being in reserve.

As he slipped the buttons closed on his black wool vest, he looked up and smiled as Leslie entered the room. At the sight of her, his mouth fell open.

She wore her light blue dress; the one Jess' mother had helped her make for the festival.

She looked stunning. "Leslie, you're wearing… _that_?" Jess had always favored the dress, with its crisp collar of white and its smooth blue hue. With her long golden tresses shining like the sun on a bright summer's day around the light blue dress, it always seemed as if Leslie wore a patch of the sky.

But it was a peasant garment, made by a poor woman in a thatched hut. It hardly seemed worthy of the finery of nobles. Leslie would stand out more than if she were to attend the ball naked. "I can't believe you chose it for tonight." He shook his head. "It doesn't seem right."

Leslie frowned. "Why not? It's my favorite dress."

Her statement rang joyfully through him. He reminded himself to tell his mother what she said about the dress. She came to a stop before him and smiled. "It was made for love, not money. I want to send a message to everyone at the ball that love is more important." She smiled somewhat bitterly. "In a way, it will say what I cannot."

Jess stood thunderstruck. He didn't know how to argue with such brazen defiance of something as important as tradition, especially at an event like the royal ball. Swallowing his trepidation, he broke her mischievous gaze to finish buttoning his vest but found that he couldn't get his fingers to work. She smiled a little at seeing his struggle and came forward, fastening it for him. Jess thanked her, his eyes roaming over her long golden hair. Even after seven months Jess had trouble accepting that her hair was so long. He missed how it looked at jaw-length, unkempt and ruffled with stray bits of straw, when he had first known her back on the farm. It seemed a lifetime ago.

"What's wrong?" She had noticed him staring.

He shrugged, blushing. "N-nothing, you just look… lovely, that's all."

Her smile filled him with joy and she took his hand then and led him out the door.

They joined Miss Edmunds and Tom, both looking fine in their dress clothes. Miss Edmunds wore the most stunning dark dress, a good match for her raven hair. Her bare, alabaster shoulders stood in stark contrast well above the neckline. Her raven black hair was curled, looking more elaborate than ever and as Jess took in the sight of her in her finery, he couldn't help but smile. She looked so much as she truly was: an enchantress. Tom was her match in his dark dress uniform and as they sauntered down the stairs arm in arm, Miss Edmunds laughed at something clever that Tom had whispered. The lilting sound made Jess spirits soar. He knew it would be a magical night.

As they stepped into the street, Jess looked about the darkening city. The sun was already setting, casting the cobblestones in long shadows. Other carriages from the other town houses were already making their way toward the palace island. Leslie sighed. She looked to him to be suddenly tired, as if the excitement of the last three days had finally caught up with her.

He wanted so much to help her, to somehow get her out of the marriage ceremony, but he knew it was useless. He was just a farm-boy-turned-servant. He couldn't save her.

With a withering sigh that he hoped she couldn't hear he led her toward the carriage.

000

The carriage ride was brief but by far the most exciting part of their entire visit. Jess knew they were approaching the palace and he wanted nothing more than to ride atop the carriage and see it for himself but that wouldn't be proper and as Leslie had warned him, he needed to mind the rules of etiquette and propriety. It wouldn't do to embarrass himself and the family that took care of him. He sat as still as he could the whole ride over, wanting to properly behave for Leslie and her family.

The carriage lurched back a bit as they ascended a rise and as Jess leaned back he knew they were going over a stone bridge to the island of Destiny. They came quietly down on the other side. No one spoke the entire ride over; instead of the light-hearted conversation they enjoyed while traveling to the city, a somber silence permeated the coach. It took a while longer to reach the palace but when the carriage rolled to a stop, Jess nearly jumped out of his seat. He could feel himself trembling with excitement.

They had arrived.

The carriage door swung open and Jess slipped out first, to give Leslie a hand down, as was his duty. As he gently gripped her slender fingers, he glanced around at their surroundings. They appeared to be in a garden of some kind, lit by fireflies that drifted about roses of red, yellow and white. Expansive lawns swept away in the darkness of the evening, dotted by grand trees carefully planted in rows. He couldn't see much of the courtyard, but as his eyes fell on their destination, he gasped.

The palace loomed over him in the darkness, a magnificent edifice of might and wonder. Living with the Burkes in their castle home, Jess had thought he knew the meaning of opulence. He was wrong. The towering spires, the turrets, the walkways and fluted columns lit by lanterns, lamps and candles fairly glowed in the night, looking as if a star had fallen from the heavens and been carved out to stand in the center of the island. Jess could hardly breathe at the sight of it. A sudden jab in his ribs made him gasp. Leslie glared at him in the near darkness. Her fair face, lit by the nearby glow emanating from the palace, was flaring red. Jess cringed. He had embarrassed her already. Lowering his gaze, he swallowed hard and apologized as she stalked towards the grand entrance.

He silently followed her as she followed her parents, joining the flow of finely dressed people ascending the grand steps up onto the fascia. There seemed to be enough room for everyone to walk alone, despite the vast numbers of arrivals and as they proceeded through the grand oak double doors standing open in greeting, Jess licked his lips and concentrated his gaze on the blue velvet ribbon that bound Leslie's hair. His eyes strayed occasionally as they moved through the elegant vestibule, and he found himself glancing up at the statues of heroes carved in marble on each side of the entry room.

They were ten times life-sized and appeared to be a King and Queen, each dressed in marble clothes that looked so real they might flutter in the cool breeze that flowed into the palace, alleviating the warmth of the summer night. Jess had never seen statues so grand or expertly carved. He wanted so much to touch one, to feel the cold smoothness of the marble as he glided his hands over it but he dared not even attempt such a thing.

A long moment passed before he realized he had stopped moving. He looked ahead for Leslie's hair ribbon but found to his horror that she had disappeared. He looked about the colorful river of people, finely dressed ladies and lords with their servants and the palace guards all moving through the entry hall towards some destination. It seemed to Jess that his family's entire house and yard could fit within the simple vestibule in which he found himself lost, with room to spare. He didn't know how he would find his mistress in all the confusion. Desperately trying to control his panic, Jess whispered her name into the hushed murmur of the crowd. There was no answer. He didn't dare shout or even allow himself to cry; he simply started walking with everyone else, hoping to find her.

He couldn't bear the thought of humiliating Leslie by having her come back for him.

Just then a voice called out, soft and soothing. He turned to see Miss Edmunds coming towards him, her lavender gown flowing about. As she approached, Jess sagged with the relief of seeing someone he knew. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" He nodded. ""Leslie is looking for you," she whispered. "Did you get lost?" He nodded again, afraid to test his voice, lest it break. "Alright," she whispered, "Just come with me. I'll get you back to her." Miss Edmunds gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him towards the great hall. He wanted so much to thank her for saving him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her then.

As they moved into the hallways of the palace, Jess held her delicate hand and allowed himself the privilege of gazing about at the fine furniture, the ruby and gold carpets under his scuffling black boots. Everything was lit by the glow of cut glass lamps before silver reflectors casting shimmering light everywhere and making the place seem that much more magical. His unworthy peasant eyes beheld the grand paintings hanging on the richly paneled walls, depicting people he didn't know and a few he actually recognized from stories in his history books. He wanted so much for Miss Edmunds to stop in front of one of them and lecture him about the nature of the particular hero, but they moved swiftly though the quiet hush of the hall, rushing to catch up with his adopted family.

As they entered a new hall, they rounded the corner and he actually caught sight of Leslie, standing in the center of the crowded area with her parents. Jess sighed in relief at the sight of them as they looked about, searching for something.

Jess felt his face burn.

He knew whom they were hunting.

Leslie turned toward them. Her eyes slid closed and she appeared to relax. Jess kept his own eyes on the rich ruby carpets. He didn't meet her gaze as Miss Edmunds released his hand, patting his back. "Found him," she said in a friendly voice, as if she had just returned a lost puppy. Jess struggled mightily to hold back tears as Leslie came forward.

Her brow furrowed, she gripped his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Leslie didn't seem angry, just concerned. He nodded that he was fine.

Her father came forward as well. "Jess… what happened?"

Jess knew he had to answer so he cleared his throat and spoke up. "I-I got lost…" He didn't try for a more elaborate explanation, just stood in silent shame as the crowd continued to whisper and scuffle along as they made their way around the small company of Burke nobility. Lord Burke didn't yell, like Jess expected, just spoke loud enough to be heard above the hushed murmur. "Well, stay close, okay?" Jess nodded, relieved Lord Burke wasn't furious. Jess knew he had a right to be and in spite of his lord's patience, he still felt like crying, having been lost and alone in such a grand and mysterious place.

As they proceeded farther down the long hall, Jess kept his eyes on Leslie's long hair and contented himself with how beautifully her golden tresses shimmered in the lamplight. Everyone stopped suddenly and he came up short of bumping into her.

Leslie turned back to him and leaned close. "Go announce us to the chamberlain." When he frowned, she pointed to a well-dressed man standing near the other end of the archway. Jess nodded, knowing now what was expected of him. He moved on swiftly, determined to make amends for his earlier failure. As he approached, he saw a servant a few years older than himself approach the chamberlain. "The Des-Tines have arrived," Jess heard him whisper. The chamberlain nodded and turned to the hall. "Announcing the Des-Tine family!"

A family swept past Jess and into the room to the sound of applause. Jess swallowed his terror. He was near the end of the archway and could already see the ballroom.

Black and white marble tiles swept away underfoot, expanding across a room large enough to hold a city the size of his hometown. The sides of the great hall held windows of immense scale hidden by drapes of violet and gold standing between pillars of white- veined brown marble supporting the vaulted ceiling that soared overhead. From the secluded safety of the alcove, he could hear the sound of music, slow and sweet floating to him from the bright room. Where the rest of the palace was muted in hushed tones, the sounds from the great hall were enough to make him shake. Boisterous people laughed and conversed about things he couldn't hear while others asked questions about people he didn't know. The gowns of the ladies and coats of the men outshined any of the finery he had glimpsed in the streets. Jess felt his mouth water at the thought of being amongst so many important people.

A voice startled him. "Boy?" He looked up to see the chamberlain looking at him. "Who are you here to announce?"

"The-the Burkes, sir."

The chamberlain nodded and Jess fled back the safety of their company. He took his place behind Leslie and fixed his gaze on the back of her hair just as the chamberlain's voice rang out announcing their arrival. As one, the group moved forward and Jess stepped lively to keep up. As they glided through the archway into the vast ballroom, Jess gaped at the immensity of it all. As large as it had seemed from the archway, it was even bigger inside. The walls stretched up to a dizzying height, supporting a ribbed, vaulted ceiling so high overhead it might as well have been the open sky. Jess felt as tiny as a bug. The dull murmur of conversation echoed around the room, reminding Jess of the crowds in the streets but unlike the masses outside the palace, the people in the banquet hall wore the finest of clothes, reds and blues and pinks mixed with whites and browns and tans and gold making it seem as if a sunset had descended. It made him feel as if his clothes, the finest he had ever worn, were nothing more than rags. He fidgeted endlessly, staying close to Leslie and her parents. He felt as if he were an imposter hiding amongst the gods themselves, as if at any minute they would realize there was a filthy peasant among them and chase him away like a rat from a granary.

The Lords and Ladies of Arkahna, all swathed in their finely tailored coats and shimmering gowns, filled the room from end to end and still had enough space to move about without stepping on each other's toes. Squires in simple black and white uniforms scurried about placing trays of food on the tables as everyone mingled and laughed, shaking hands in merry greeting as they moved slowly across the room. The white-clothed tables to the sides held an unparalleled variety of food and drink, enough it seemed, to feed an army of supplicants. Every plate was gold-rimmed and every goblet was the finest crystal. There were platters with meat of every kind he could name and many he couldn't begin to identify.

He kept his eyes forward as they approached the end of the hall. When the crowd parted, Jess was terrified to see they were making their way steadily toward the King. He sat waiting upon a golden throne, his noble gaze locked onto the approaching family.

Another family of nobles departed just as the one ahead of them arrived. The family bowed before their King, the women curtsying, the men kneeling and all swearing allegiance to his Majesty. Jess couldn't hear all the words, but he knew the family's servants weren't required to say them. He felt relieved at not having to say anything before the King.

When the company before them rose and departed, the Burkes shuffled forward, Leslie at their lead. Jess watched her curtsy and felt Tom's strong hands force him down into a deep bow. Jess kept his eyes locked on the intricately patterned marble floor as the Burke's recited the oath.

"Fidelity to the crown, on our hearts, on our souls, on our lives."

The rustling of cloth informed Jess it was time to leave. He was tempted to meet the gaze of the King but he dared not raise his head to look, instead following Leslie's hair ribbon away from the throne as she led him to an open spot near the tables at the side of the room. Jess heaved a sigh and stole a glance at the distant throne. He had never been so close to royalty. The supplicants continued to arrive, bowing before the King and kissing his ring before departing to take what seemed pre-arranged places at the sides of the room. The most important people, Jess guessed, were nearest the King, and for the first time, he noticed the multitude of people surrounding the royal family. Several men stood about, some in robes, others in long coats, some clean-shaven others with full beards. They appeared to be watching everyone in the room.

As his curiosity overcame his sense of caution, Jess leaned close and whispered his questions to Leslie. "Who are all those people up there?"

Leslie leaned over without meeting his gaze. "Advisors to the crown," she said. "Some are from the Wizards Guild, others the Warlock Union. There are star guides and seers among them. A few are just administrators but most of the people around his majesty have some magic.

"They can hear everything we're saying, so mind what you say, if you want to keep your head."

Jess couldn't tell if she was joking.

He returned his gaze to the people on the raised area and was startled to see that Mrs. Myers stood among them. As her stern visage swept the room, her dark hair and conservative dress reminded Jess of nothing so much as a crow hunting for food.

Jess swallowed hard as her dark eyes came to rest on him. He felt as tiny as a mouse under her glower. At last her dark eyes swept onward, but not before settling a look on Leslie that made Jess unconsciously reach for his knife.

Leslie pulled his hand away before he could touch it.

Jess glanced back towards the tables watching intently as steam rose off the roasted pigs, ducks, and geese. Large steaming platters held an array of sausages and ribs, nestled amongst bowls of boiled potatoes, plates of fish both dried and grilled, and platters of ham and numerous bowls of nuts, grapes and sauces as well as several platters of raw vegetables. He licked his lips at the savory sight of such a variety of samples. They were all placed carefully amongst massive platters of strawberries, bowls of spiced apples, tiered stands of pastries and covered tureens of polished silver holding what Jess guessed, from the aroma of onions and spices, was a delicious variety of soups.

As his gaze roamed over the small portion of the single table, it appeared to Jess to be the most opulent feast ever held.

It looked to Jess as if no one had touched any of the offerings.

He could feel his stomach starting to grumble and without much thought, reached for a steaming platter of delicious-looking roasted ribs. Before he could touch even one of them Leslie's hand clamped down tightly onto his wrist. Her grip was so strong, it hurt. Wincing, he turned to her warning glare. "No one eats before the King," she whispered. The look in her bluish-green eyes was so frightening, he could only nod.

Slowly, she removed his arm from the table. Jess let out an unsteady breath and glanced about to see if anyone had seen his indiscretion. No one paid him the slightest attention.

Leslie led him away from the temptation of the banquet tables, toward the center of the room. As he followed Leslie's lead, Jess stood in awe of everything he never imagined could exist, of statues in the corners of the room, of furniture finer than any he ever thought could be made by men. Even the pillars stood as massive supports of a ceiling he couldn't dream in his wildest fantasies.

The people they passed were even more impressive.

As the crowd talked and more guests arrived, Jess felt his stomach protesting. He wanted so much to eat, but the ball had not yet begun. As Leslie led him around the room, Jess heard many people complain that the final guests hadn't yet arrived.

Jess could only wonder at who the inconsiderate guests could be.

Knowing it was a breach of protocol, Jess nevertheless reached out his hand to tap Leslie's shoulder. He wanted to ask who was not yet here. Before his fingers could graze her shoulder, the announcer called out to the crowd the arrival of the late-comers.

"Announcing the Lord and Lady Owens and their daughter Madison Owens."

The room filled with the sounds of ruffling clothes as everyone turned toward the door. Jess could see a man and woman at the doorway, casting disdainful glances at everyone in the room. They strode forward with an arrogant step, looking as if they owned the whole kingdom. Where other guests wore smiles to hide their true feelings, the Owens glared openly at everyone. They seemed like nothing so much as wolves stalking their prey and their daughter was no exception. She wore her scowl as well as either of her parents. Jess stared openly at the trio as they marched across the room, noting that their daughter wore the exact same dress as her mother, a white gown, cinched at the waist with a pink satin belt and while her face bore the freckles and softness of youth, the seriousness of her expression, so devoid of the joy of life, matched her mother's perfectly. It was a look so much unlike that which Leslie wore, Jess blanched at the sight.

As they made their way straight through the center of the room, the only sound was the _clack_ of their boots on the hard marble floor. They kept their eyes straight ahead. A gaggle of servant girls followed at a respectable distance. Every noble family had a few servants with them but none brought as many as the Owens. Jess guessed they wanted to look more important by bringing an excess of help. As he stared, the crowd parted for them like a river around a stone. Everyone glared at their backs as they stopped before the King.

The Duke Owens knelt as his wife and daughter dipped curtsies before the King.

"Fidelity to the crown, on our hearts, on our souls, on our lives," they said in unison.

As they rose from the floor, the King stood. He clapped his hands and instantly an army of squires in simple uniforms flowed into the room, each bearing a silver tray aloft. Every tray carried a silver chalice and as they moved amongst the crowd, every adult in the room took hold of a goblet. Jess frowned, confused by the ritual as a passing servant glided by delivering her chalices to the Burke family. Leslie didn't receive a chalice, but she didn't appear to want one either. Miss Edmunds and Tom took theirs reverently. Jess gazed about, expecting everyone to be gulping whatever was in them, but no one had raised theirs to their lips.

As the quiet shuffling of departing squires faded, the King raised his chalice, a jewel encrusted golden cup. His family did the same. All eyes were on him as everyone else in the room raised their silver goblets in silent answer.

It was so quiet in the grand room, Jess was sure he could hear the heartbeats of everyone nearby as they waited in the tense silence for the King to speak.

"Welcome to the midsummer festival," he said, his voice booming through the great hall. "Drink the wine of welcome and know that you are welcome in my home."

Jess stood in awe as everyone raised their drinks and downed the wine. He remembered Leslie telling him of this tradition. Every adult partook of the wine of welcome at the beginning of the feast and the wine of departure that followed the completion of the festivities. It was a symbolic welcome that bound everyone to the King's hospitality for the evening before releasing them at the end of the night. Jess thought it an amazing sight but as he turned to Leslie, he saw her cover a yawn with the back of her hand. He guessed seeing it for the tenth time in her life wasn't as impressive as the first.

As they finished the drink, everyone returned the goblets to the passing servants and began applauding. Then, as the applause died down, the King raised his hands.

"Enjoy the feast!"

The crowd instantly broke, some people heading for the tables, others for people they knew. All started talking, eating, laughing, and shaking hands of lords and kissing the backs of lady's fingers as servants rushed about tending to the needs of all. Music of a light and beautiful nature filled the great hall, resounding off the walls and lifting the somber mood to one of merriment. Jess followed Leslie straight to the tables. He supposed she was as hungry as he felt. She immediately selected a small plate and piled on ribs, a few fruits and a bit of buttered bread. Jess licked his lips at the sight. He watched for her nod of approval before he grabbed a bowl and immediately ladled himself some soup. As he held the warm bowl in both hands, he inhaled the spicy aroma. Leslie nudged his elbow and he leaned close to hear her over the buzz of the crowd. "It's still hot. Set it down to let it cool." She held up a rib for him. "Eat some of these while you wait."

He took her rib and nibbled gingerly, surprised to find it still warm. He retrieved a plate for himself and set about loading up on meats and fruits. He wanted to try some of the new dishes he had seen. Leslie advised him towards the better ones and warned him away from the others that she said weren't worth his time. He trusted her and found she knew what she was talking about; everything she selected was delicious. After a while he returned to his soup and put it to his lips. It had cooled sufficiently and he quickly drank down the warm brown liquid. Jess sighed with satisfaction. The soup had warmed him and after a second glass of spiced cider, Jess felt the anxiety that had held him start to melt away. Leslie warned him not to make himself sick, but the food was so good he couldn't help himself from taking more. Every time he turned around he saw something else he wanted to try. The bread he sampled was warm and soft, melting in his mouth, leaving behind the sweet taste of molasses on his tongue. He drank another cup of cider and laughed a little as he watched the shifting crowds. Everything seemed right.

Miss Edmunds spoke with Mrs. Myers about important things and laughed with Tom about stories they shared. They both seemed popular with the people of the palace, waving to people who called out to them and shaking hands with dukes and ambassadors alike. Jess watched them both talk with the most important people, the officers and nobles and men in strange robes and long dark coats. Jugglers and musicians and even a few fire-breathers entertained people as they ate. Upon seeing the gout of flames burst forth to jubilant applause, Jess heard someone in golden robes—undoubtedly a wizard, Leslie whispered—remark that breathing the fire was easy, while swallowing it was the real trick. People laughed. Jess laughed. Everyone seemed happy. Except Leslie. She smiled when people greeted her and made witticisms when appropriate but she didn't seem to shine like she always had back on the farm.

Many a noble family they passed stopped them to shake Duke William's hand and kiss the backs of Duchess Judy's fingers. Leslie received many compliments about how much she had grown the past year, how beautiful she was becoming and wishes for a long and happy marriage. Jess stood a little back and to her side, his eyes on his boots as they talked but he could see when Leslie turned away to greet others that the smile she held was forced. She wasn't enjoying herself and Jess suspected many reasons for her displeasure. First amongst them was the tedium of greeting people she hardly knew. Jess hoped he at least wasn't one of the reasons for her unhappiness.

They were next confronted by a rather round woman with a painted face. The woman's dress was a garish shade of red and her dark hair was done up with pins that, to Jess' mind, together with her dress, made her seem rather silly looking.

The woman smiled at Leslie—a smile of indulgence, Jess noted—as she dipped her dark head in greeting. "How nice it is to see you again, my dear."

Leslie curtsied. "And you as well, Ma'am." Leslie's smile seemed as insincere as the lady's.

Jess knew the woman had called Leslie "my dear" because she had never bothered to learn her name. Jess tried not to let that bother him. He supposed it was difficult for someone in her position to keep track of all the names of people she met, especially the daughters and sons of those important people. It occurred to him that she might not think Leslie important enough to remember and he felt his ire rising at the pompous woman and her haughty, insincere smile.

As she sauntered away to greet others, a thought came to his mind. He remembered the first time Leslie and he had met. Leslie was dirty, sweating and wearing simple peasant clothes. Jess wondered how the noble lady would react if she saw her as he had back then, all covered in dirt and smelling like a barn in the middle of summer. Smiling to himself, he mused that the woman would scream outrage if she saw Leslie jumping stark naked into the pond to bathe or digging roots, or butchering fish for supper. The image of Leslie, up to her elbows in fish guts and the fat noble woman shrieking in fright was almost enough to make him laugh. He reminded himself that he would have to tell Leslie about that when they were alone again.

As the guests mingled and spoke in hushed whispers, a clear voice called out to them.

"Well, well, as I live and breathe, if it isn't Leslie Burke!"

Leslie turned to the condescending sound of the voice, her best polite smile plastered across her face. Jess turned with her just in time to see the Owens' daughter stalking towards them, a gaggle of servants following at a respectful distance. A swarm of other noble girls about Leslie's age moved around Madison like a flock of chicks following a mother hen. As the group of finely dressed girls came to a sudden stop before them, Leslie dipped her head in greeting. "Madison."

No one returned the nod. Madison tossed back her fall of dull black hair. It was as long as Leslie's, pinned at the back of her scalp to fountain down the back of her sparkling white dress. She flashed a smug smile. "How have you been, Leslie?"

It was a snide question asked out of necessary etiquette, with a distinct inflection of distaste on her name. One would have missed it if one were not listening for it. Jess had been listening. While he was certain Leslie heard it, she gave no outward sign. "I'm fine, Madison, thank you." Leslie seemed to be playing the part of a gracious guest. Jess wanted nothing to do with this Madison girl. He could tell right way that she was trouble.

As if in answer to his silent assessment, Madison came forward and spoke in a confidential tone. "I was quite worried about you, actually." She looked about with wide brown eyes as if to see anyone else who might be listening to their gossip. Ignoring Jess, Madison brought her freckled face closer to Leslie. "I heard you were lost on a family trip and abducted by peasants!"

Leslie's face crinkled in confusion; she obviously had no idea what Madison meant.

Jess thought he did but made no move to comment. The noble girls behind Madison giggled at what they thought was a private joke. Jess could feel his face heating. He tried to remain calm as Madison continued to explain to Leslie's confounded expression the nature of what she meant. "Oh, it's all right, Leslie, we understand. It must have been awful for you to be a captive of those lowly creatures." She pulled back to the safety of the flock. "I hear tell they were so poor that they couldn't afford labor animals and they made you wear a yoke and work their fields instead!"

All the girls around Madison laughed. Jess felt his blood boil. He didn't understand everything about this world but the things Leslie had taught him about trading insults in so-called "polite society" allowed him to understand the derogatory meaning in Madison's words. By spreading ugly rumors about Leslie's captivity—her time with Jess' family—Madison not only shamed Leslie, but referred to her as nothing more than an ox, a filthy beast of burden. Madison wasn't sympathetic to Leslie's imagined plight—if anything, it sounded as if she wished it was true—but anyone listening to their conversation would hear only the sweet words of a concerned friend. Jess hated the idea of Madison lying about what his family did to Leslie but he dared say nothing to disgrace her.

If Jess felt his face to be the expression of rage barely contained, Leslie's was the opposite. She looked devoid of any emotion at all. As she caught on to Madison's reasoning she nodded her head in quiet understanding. "Ah, you refer to my recent excursion." Her voice was as calm as her features. "Well, let me assure you that as awful as it was, it was not as bad as you might think." She gestured offhandedly. "They at least fed me well enough and let me sleep at night. And I found the labor of working the fields slightly more enjoyable than attending endless committees and celebrations to trade words with the social elite." As Madison's superior smile fell away to be replaced by a dark scowl, her freckled face began to redden. Leslie smiled a genuine grin as she continued. "To tell you the truth, the most I had to contend with in the wheat fields was the occasional raven stealing seeds." She leaned in close, returning Madison's glare in kind. Jess smiled as the other noble girls retreated a half-step. "Thankfully, I never encountered any vipers out in the fields."

Jess stood as still as stone. Inwardly, he cheered his friend. Leslie had just delivered a cutting message: she would rather be a beast of burden working for peasants than put up with these vipers. He knew the way she had delivered the message—with subtly and authority—was the proper way to trade blows in the court of the King. Simple brawling was meant for "lesser people," like farmers and soldiers and was expressly forbidden in cultured events such as this.

Madison restored her smile with effortless grace. "Well, I hope those filthy peasants didn't whip you too much and that your father gave them all what they deserved."

Jess felt something inside him snap. He knew the protocol for proper behavior but as Madison's words cut through him, he didn't care. She was mocking his family and Leslie's by suggesting they were as cruel as her. Nothing Scott Hoager ever said to him cut him so deeply. He decided he would teach her a lesson in manners—the peasant way.

As he took a step forward, Leslie moved swiftly to Madison's side, blocking his path. Leaning close to her rival, she whispered, "As a matter of fact, they all got _exactly_ what they deserved."

Jess held his place behind her and relaxed. He felt a swell of pride for Leslie. To anyone watching it would seem as if whispering to Madison was all Leslie had done. Jess knew better. In one graceful movement, Leslie had stopped him from making a great mistake and had taken the edge off his anger by reminding him of how much he owed her family. She also answered Madison's statement in a way that was ambiguous enough to be taken a number of ways and still be considered the truth. Jess released a deep breath and felt himself cool down. He was still too close to be properly stationed but Leslie saved him from any embarrassment of retreating. Turning to him, she smiled with sudden delight. "Oh, Jess, there you are," she said, as if noticing him for the first time. "Fetch me some cider, please."

He bowed his head gratefully. "Yes, my lady." Without another thought, he turned from the meeting and retreated to the table. Madison had not noticed his presence, as according to Leslie, she considered servants unworthy of notice and wouldn't pay them any attention. Jess was grateful. He didn't want Leslie angry with him, especially now.

Jess breathed a sigh of relief as he scanned the tables. The trays he had worked to empty of their food had been refilled as if by magic. Jess smiled at the sight. The effect was meant to give the impression of endless bounty, as if the food replaced itself. As he fetched Leslie's drink he kept an ear out for what she was saying. Madison asked if she were prepared for the marriage ceremony. Leslie assured her she was more than ready. Everyone knew it would be taking place within the next hour, before the big dance.

As Jess poured cider into a chalice, he heard Madison mention how much Leslie's betrothed was looking forward to their marriage. Jess paused at this, realizing that he had never actually seen the boy Leslie was to marry. He quickly finished pouring the drink and turned around. No one paid him any attention, so he waited a moment as they continued their conversation.

"Just look at him, Leslie." Sighing wistfully, Madison pointed across the room. "He's your future, the man with whom you'll spend your entire life."

Jess followed her subtle gesture to a table at which stood Leslie's future husband. At the sight of him, Jess nearly dropped the cup. The boy was fat. Very fat. He was about Leslie's age, but he was plumper than Gary Fulcher. His fat hands were filled with pastries and as he chewed, he alternated between hands, biting first one pastry, and then the other, squishing cream all over his round face as a rotund woman—presumably his mother—lovingly wiped his double chin with a linen napkin. Jess thought he might be sick. That was the boy Leslie would marry, the boy with whom she would share a bed.

Jess was thankful as never before not to be old enough to understand what adults did together in bed, but whatever it was, he couldn't stand the thought of it happening to Leslie. Someday she would have his fat children and live in his fat house and probably never get enough to eat because of their fat pets and children taking all the food for themselves. She would be a slave to the fat pig that Jess saw standing near the food table, grabbing more food and eating it all like he was on his way to be executed. Jess swayed on his feet. He had not known the nature of Leslie's future husband, but for her sake he had prayed that he would at least be somewhat handsome.

The look on her face told him she was anything but pleased with her future.

It seemed that in reminding Leslie of what she faced, Madison had won. The final match was hers. The way she grinned in triumph made Jess furious. The way Leslie grimaced broke his heart. Stiffly, he returned to her side and handed her the drink. Leslie thanked him and sipped her cider, her bluish-green eyes never leaving the sight of her awful destiny.

Jess wished he had the courage to spill the cider—all over Madison's sparkling white dress. But he hadn't the heart to humiliate Leslie by misbehaving.

As Madison laughed, Leslie trembled. Jess could tell by the way she held the cider cup that she was doing more than quenching her thirst; she was trying to hide her tears. Jess could only stand awkwardly as Madison bade Leslie a good evening and sauntered away, leading the gaggle of grinning nobles and attending servants towards the center of the crowd.

As Leslie downed the rest of the cider, she turned toward him, not wanting to face the mingling crowd. "Thank you, Jess." she whispered. "Please, let's get some more."

Jess took her arm and led her to the tables to the soft sounds of music.

He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, but he couldn't seem to find the words.


	29. Chapter 29

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 29**

The evening went on without much disturbance. Someone became ill and had to leave the ball, but other than that it was a quiet evening. Finally, the time came for the young nobles to be wed. Leslie left Jess' side, walking woodenly to stand at the side of her future husband. Jess watched her step up beside the fat boy—realizing that he still didn't know his name—and sighed. He expected the lard-stuffed toad to leer at Leslie or do something else ungentlemanly, but he only seemed to have eyes for the food tables.

Jess almost wished he would do something to Leslie, something to disgrace himself and annul the wedding. He wished for Leslie's sake that he would prove unworthy of her. As he watched, helpless to save her, Leslie and her betrothed disappeared from view as many young nobles crowded about the center of the hall like cattle waiting to be slaughtered.

They were all separated by age groups. Many were as young as May belle. It was understood that those younger than sixteen would not be required to consummate their marriage—whatever that meant—and would continue to live with their parents until they came of age. Jess consoled himself that he would have six more years with Leslie. The past seven months had been the best of his life and he honestly couldn't imagine his life without her. But then the King began to speak. His words were filled with power and passion, committing the nobles to each other in the bonds of marriage. Jess knew that the marriages were meant to strengthen the kingdom by bringing together families of nobles. He looked upon the King with new disgust. He was the facilitator of this nightmare. It was his fault Leslie would suffer. He wished more than anything for the King to burst into flames on the spot. As the King finished his speech, the Queen rose to perform the service. "Do all of you young nobles promise to cherish the ones to whom you are sworn, to honor them always and bring forth happiness and peace for as long as you shall live?"

As one they spoke that they did. Jess could hear Leslie's dead voice in that colorful crowd.

"Then by the power vested in me by divine right and the will of the gods, I pronounce you wed for all time."

A roaring cheer went up from everyone in the room. Some of the older newlyweds embraced passionately, while others shook hands or stood awkwardly as their parents rushed in to congratulate them. Jess couldn't see Leslie in the crush of people but he hoped she wasn't being kissed by her new husband. Leslie deserved better. As they crowd merged once more into a seething mass of color and noise, the musicians started up and everyone took their places. Husbands held their wives, both newlyweds and parents, and slowly, as the music rose to a steady cadence, they twirled in unison, like flower petals of every color swirling across the room. Jess saw Miss Edmunds laughing as Tom spun her about and Duke William dancing with his wife Judy. Leslie's parents had been married this way and they seemed happy about it. Jess sighed. He supposed Leslie would get used to it. Perhaps she would even learn to love the boy to whom she was bound. Just then, two pairs of couples parted long enough for him to see her. She was facing away from him, the fat boys arms wrapped awkwardly around her as they danced for the first time. Jess smiled at the sight of his best friend, but as she turned around, he started.

She looked like she was in pain.

The crowd folded again, dancing in time with the music. When they opened again, he saw her crying out. He started forward but some servant woman grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. The crowd closed and when they opened again, he caught sight of her. This time, he relaxed. She was in pain because the fat boy was stepping on her toes. He almost laughed aloud. Leslie wasn't in trouble; she just had a lousy dancing partner. Jess swept a hand back through his hair.

The first dance would soon be over and she would be free.

When the music finished, the partners released each other, applauding. Some went their separate ways and others retreated to the safety of the tables for a drink. As Jess clapped his approval of the dance display, Leslie hobbled over to him. She rested her backside against the table and winced as she took some pressure off her feet.

"Are you okay?"

She forced a smile and whispered, "You know how fat he looks?" Jess nodded. "He's even heavier than that."

Jess laughed a little. Leslie smiled a bit more. He didn't expect her to be in such a good mood. Jess guessed humor was her way of dealing with things she couldn't change. The music started up again and people took partners for their next turn. Some chose their new spouse, others girls or boys they knew. Everyone looked to be having a good time.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in another dance?"

She looked at him askance. "With you?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" She looked hesitant. He scratched his shoulder. "Well, I can understand if you'd rather dance with your husband…"

One look at the fat pig stuffing his face at the table across the room convinced her. "I'm yours."

Jess smiled and taking her delicate hand, they walked out onto the dance floor. Everything was going well. He didn't feel as nervous as he thought he would. As Leslie stepped into his arms, he felt odd, peaceful, like nothing was wrong with the world. He turned her in time with the music, letting her lilting laugh fill him with joy. They twirled about the marble floor, dancing quite well amongst the massive crowd.

Jess didn't step on her toes even once.

000

As the evening came to a close, Jess found he had trouble staying awake. Many of the younger children had been escorted home in the arms of their caretakers to be put to bed while their parents danced the night away. Stifling a yawn, Jess wished for a bed himself.

Everyone was separated into the groups with whom they had arrived to make departure from the palace a swift and simple affair. Leslie and her parents had gathered along with Tom and Julia and stood by Jess as they waited for the final event. None of the noble parents had departed but as the evening winded down the ceremony began. The squires brought forth the drink of departure, administering it to every noble man and woman. No one drank of course, waiting for the King to make his farewell speech.

As the king stood, he raised his golden chalice. "I thank you all for attending the midsummer festival, the most important event of the year. I bid you farewell for now and a good harvest, may we meet again next year."

As he drank the crowd gave a weak cheer and followed suit. The chalices drained, they returned them to the squires and smiled. As Jess watched, the King finished his speech.

"I hope you all… I hope you all have a wonderful…"

Jess frowned. The King's speech was slurred. The King coughed. Jess figured he must have had too much wine. As he coughed again, the chalice dropped from the King's fingers, clattering across the marble floor. As the echo of the goblet rattled around the room, everyone gasped. The King doubled over, clutching his stomach and vomited onto the marble floor. Jess was too shocked to laugh at the absurd sight.

Then he noticed what everyone else was beginning to realize.

The King had vomited blood.

As he moved closer, the Queen fell to the floor. Jess thought she had fainted at the ghastly sight, but then she vomited blood as well. Then everything went crazy.

All the nobles in the room clutched their stomachs and doubled over in pain. It was as if a plague had blown in, knocking all the Lords and Ladies to the ground. Jess watched in horror as every member of the royal family, the Wizard's Guild the Warlock Union and even the Sorceress Alliance fell to their knees, vomiting blood. Servant girls screamed, children cried out in terror and as Jess stood frozen, he heard the most terrifying scream of all coming from behind him.

It was Leslie.

He spun to see her sink to her knees on the floor. Jess breath caught in his throat. He waited for the blood to come. It didn't. Instead she clutched at a pile of silk clothes, screaming something that Jess couldn't understand. The echoes of everyone else's screaming were drowning out the words but as he made his way toward her, sidestepping the retching bodies, he began to understand what she was crying.

She was crying for her mother.

Jess froze. He saw clearly now what she was clutching. The pile of silk cloth was her mother's dress. Judy lay on the floor, unconscious as blood flowed from her open mouth.

Jess didn't know which was more frightening: the sight of Leslie's mother drowning in her own blood or the sound of her daughter's helpless pleas.

She shook her mother as tears streaming down her face, tears of helplessness at the sight of her mother dying. "Mamma! No! Mamma!"

As the piercing shriek of his best friend sliced through him, he was dimly aware of how Leslie referred to her mother by the infantile cognomen. He realized Leslie was so distraught that she had reverted to a more primitive state. She was wailing like a girl half her age. Unable to bear the sight any longer Jess staggered back, his hands running through his thick dark hair.

_This can't be happening_, he silently railed. _By the gods, it can't!_

He didn't understand what was making all those people sick. He felt dizzy. Clutching his stomach, he waited for the pain to take him. He thought sure he felt the hot nausea spreading through him but he didn't fall. He saw Lord Burke leaning on a chair and vomiting blood. He found Tom in a similar state, clutching a nearby tablecloth as he fell to the floor.

And then he saw Miss Edmunds.

The woman he loved was dead.

He screamed, rushing to her side. "No! Julia, oh, gods, no!" He lifted her limp body into his lap, stroking her dark hair as he wept. "No, please, dear gods, no…"

"Jess…"

Her voice came as a soft, hoarse whisper. Jess leaned close, desperate to hear her, to prove to himself that he hadn't imagined her voice. "Miss-Miss Edmunds…?"

"Jess…" she wheezed.

"Miss Edmunds!" He clutched her tightly, trying to shut out the sound of moaning that filled the room, the piercing shriek of his best friend behind him and his own terrified panting. "Miss Edmunds, please tell me what's happening! I'm scared. Please, I don't know what—"

"Poison."

Jess felt a cold chill run through him at the sound of her whispered explanation. "P-poison?" He swallowed. "We've-we've been poisoned?" She nodded, her ice blue eyes closing as she wheezed. "No! Miss Edmunds, don't die—please!"

Her beautiful eyes opened again, but only for a moment. She whispered something he couldn't understand and fell silent again. He stroked her beautiful face. She looked ashen. Jess searched the room, crying out for someone to help. No one listened. Servants rushed about the fallen bodies of nobles, officials and magical folk, not knowing what to do for them, tending the fallen. Soldiers had flooded the room, bringing healers and trying to help the retching, dying people to their feet, but none of them had any success.

"What are we going to do?" he heard someone call.

Jess knew the answer, but he dared not speak it aloud.

_We're all going to die!_


	30. Chapter 30

**The New Life**

**a novel by Mark Robert Whitten**

**Chapter 30**

**Final Chapter**

Jess shook with terror.

As he held Miss Edmunds, he could hear the desperate cries of soldiers calling for healers, the serving women sobbing and Leslie's constant cries of "_Mamma!_" He wished she would stop. He couldn't stand the thought of what was happening, but her cries were shaking him to his core. In a few minutes, everyone would be dead.

As the healers rushed in, the soldiers helped them to their patients. Jess called out for them but there were far too many people to treat. No help was coming. He looked down at Miss Edmunds, at her beautiful features, ashen and still. He stroked her cheek, trying not to cry. He was useless. He couldn't save her. Jess cursed himself a fool. After all those times he dreamed of saving Miss Edmunds from horrors, he now found himself unable to save her from the real horror of death.

He clutched her raven-haired head to his chest.

Tom's whisper brought him around. He looked up to see him nearby on his hands and knees, coughing. He reached out to grasp Miss Edmunds limp hand. Jess saw he couldn't reach. He looked into Tom's eyes, eyes that held a pain beyond that which was killing him. Tom's brown eyes stared back, silently pleading for help.

In that moment of shared understanding, Jess lifted her limp hand out to him and wept.

His blurred vision swept away from her pallid face, unable to bear the sight. He looked down the length of her elaborate lavender gown, and paused. Something was there, in her belt—something almost white. It looked like a stick.

Jess wiped his eyes with his free hand. He looked again, trying to see clearly.

Then he understood.

It was her wand.

With trembling fingers, Jess gripped the slender white stick and slid it out of her belt. He held it close, wondering at it. It felt cool in his hand. He didn't know why he had taken it, only that he had. He knew he couldn't use it to cure her, to cure anyone. He didn't know magic. He was just an ignorant peasant playing at being something more.

But there was something about the wand, something that nagged at him. Jess felt a tickling feeling in his mind, a memory of something that Miss Edmunds told him. Something about the wand. He squinted at it, trying to remember.

She told him that the wand had special properties because it was made from some rare thing, something few people ever gained.

It came to him in a flash.

Unicorn.

A Unicorn's horn—that's what made the wand special. It was carved from the horn of a unicorn. But why was that important? He tried to remember something about unicorns— about their horns, something that would help. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the sound of Leslie's panicked crying and forced away the shouts of desperate people, of thoughts of what would happen if he failed. Breathing deeply, he drifted back to the conversation again. Miss Edmunds said that unicorn horns had special properties, something to do with healing.

Jess gasped.

His eyes opened.

He remembered.

Unicorn horns could neutralize poisons.

Jess shot to his feet. His head spun. He was so excited, he nearly laughed maniacally. He held the answer in his trembling hand. The unicorn-horn wand could save them. He knew what to do.

Glancing about, he saw what he needed.

Now he only needed a knife.

"Tom!"

Tom lifted his head, shaking with the effort. "Jess…"

Jess knelt down beside him. "I need your knife." He reached down and pulled at Tom's belt, trying to find it. "I can save us, just please, give me your knife!"

Tom didn't argue—couldn't, Jess realized—just reached under his belly and pulled it free. He handed the knife over and as soon as Jess' fingers wrapped around the carved-bone handle, he raced toward the food table. He stopped over a large cut-glass bowl of spiced wine. He had to hurry. Holding the wand out over the wine, he stroked the blade across the white surface. Nothing happened. A few seconds passed and as he scratched the wand with the knife's edge, dust began falling away. He worked faster, running the edge up and down the wand, creating a shower of particles that rained down from the wand.

The scrapings sparkled with magic, and as they fell into the red surface of the wine, Jess called out to the servant girls. They didn't respond. "I have the cure!" Jess screamed. He didn't stop to look if they were coming, just kept screaming that he had it and scraped like mad as he listened to his piercing shriek echoing off the marble walls.

A presence at his side made him pause and suddenly towering over him was the Captain of the Griffon Guard.

"What is it boy," the captain asked gripping his shoulders. "What did you say?"

Jess swallowed. He couldn't make words come forth. One of the servant women spoke for him. "He said he has the cure!"

The captain shook him. "Is that true, boy?" He shook him hard. "Do you have an antidote?"

Jess nodded. He captain motioned to the wine with a questing glance. Jess stepped back, nodding. The captain snatched up a stray goblet and filled it. Tasting a sample, he waited a moment before dashing off to the far end of the room. Jess raced after him, stopping a respectful distance and watched transfixed as the captain held the King's head up and forced the drink into his mouth. The wine sloshed around his mouth running down his chin and at last the King sputtered, coughed and began to swallow.

A tense moment passed.

The King groaned.

His eyes opened.

Jess nearly leapt with joy. He had done it. He had cured the King.

Now he needed to cure everyone else. Vaulting over the colorfully swathed bodies of nobles, Jess raced back to the wine bowl. He tucked Tom's knife and Julia's wand in the waistband of his trousers and scooped up a goblet. Plunging it into the wine, he looked back over to where his adopted family lay dying. He pulled the goblet back out and ran as quickly as he could, nearly tripping many times as he wove amongst servants now rushing for the cure. As they distributed it to their lords and ladies, Jess fed it to Tom and Miss Edmunds, before rushing off to Leslie. He stooped before her. Her golden head was lowered over her mother's body. It didn't appear that Lady Judy was breathing. "Leslie," he whispered. She didn't look up. He lowered himself to his knees and took Judy's head in his hand. "We have to get her to drink." Leslie didn't acknowledge him. He took her hands and placed the goblet between her fingers. As he opened Judy's mouth, Leslie blinked. She looked at him as if seeing him from very far away. "Mamma's gone," she whispered brokenly. "She's gone…"

He heard the groans and coughing of many echo around the room. He ignored the thrill of saving them now rising in his heart. He had to concentrate. "Leslie, she's still alive. I can save her, but you have to hold her for me, okay?" She said nothing. "Leslie!"

She didn't respond. Her bluish-green eyes glaze as she stared at nothing. She seemed far away. Cradling Lady Judy's head in his lap, Jess snatched the goblet and poured the wine into her mouth. She began convulsing; she was shaking so violently that Jess almost dropped the goblet. He held her tight, continuing to pour the wine as Judy coughed and choked and swallowed what Jess hoped would be enough.

After a moment, her head rolled back. Her eyes came open. She looked about a moment and when she caught sight of Leslie, she smiled. "There's my baby girl…"

Leslie's eyes fell on her mother. Wailing, she threw herself over her mother, gripping her tight. "Mamma!" she bawled, "Oh, Mamma!" Leslie clung to her mother, weeping desperately as her mother's hand ran weakly down the length of her long, golden hair. Jess could hear her whispering soft words of comfort to her daughter. He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his thick dark hair. He paused, grimacing as he realized his fingers were sticky with wine and pulled them free of his matted hair. He looked around the great room. The servants were administering to the lords and ladies, still laying about the cold marble floor. With all the colorful gowns it seemed as if a rainbow had fallen. Everywhere he looked people groaned, sat up or waved a free hand to fan themselves and generally seemed to be waking from a long dream. Jess laughed at the sight.

Duke William was recovering as well. Jess was over-joyed to see Leslie's father cradling her in his arms, that he would live too.

Jess laughed with relief. He had done it. He had saved everyone.

The cure had worked.

As he breathed a sigh of relief, Jess saw everyone regaining their feet and the healers restraining them as best they could. Leslie continued to weep. He patted her back.

"It's all right, Leslie. It's all right."

He knew everything would be okay. Leslie's tearful smile told him so.

000

It took the better part of the next day for everyone to fully recover. Healers had treated everyone and it seemed there were no fatalities. Jess was glad for that. It seemed that through quick thinking and resourcefulness, he had saved everyone from the assassination plot. The entire palace was alive with conversations, from outlandishly loud to even-tempered about who was behind it. Popular opinion named the Owens family as the ones responsible for the poisoning. Many considered this an attempt by the rivals of the Owens to lay suspicion on them, but the counter to this argument was the fact that the Owens had disappeared during the event and hadn't been heard from since. The King and his trusted advisors were meeting to discuss a plan to investigate the Owens' presumed innocence. Everyone had different ideas of how it should be performed. The Warlock Union took the assault personally and wanted to lay waste to their entire duchy with terrible storms of magic while the Wizard Guild wished a more sensible approach, tempered with the even hand of the courts.

All that would have to wait.

There was one final event to resolve before the festival was drawn to a close.

As he stood trembling, the chamberlain called him forth. Jess took a deep breath and started forward. Everyone watched him approach. He felt completely exposed as he made his way across the grand hall. All noble eyes fell on him. At Leslie's advice, he ignored them and continued on his way to the far end of the room where the King waited.

He thought back to the townhouse where Leslie had helped him prepare for the ceremony. He was to be honored by the King for his brave act. He felt like a pretender.

"So what do I do?" He tugged his vest and smoothed down his hair, trying to make himself look more proper. "Am I supposed to speak or something?"

"No," Leslie told him. "You just smile and nod and accept whatever you're given."

He nodded that he understood. She told him it was a great honor to be thanked by the King and that everyone of importance now owed him their lives. Jess couldn't begin to count the number of people who had thanked him for his quick-thinking and cleverness.

Leslie was the most grateful. She wouldn't stop telling him how proud she was and how much she loved him. He reasoned it was only to be expected. She had been so terrified of losing her parents, and now, thanks to him, they were standing in the crowd watching him with approval as he strode toward the throne.

Jess stopped before the King and knelt bowing his head. He dared not speak.

"What is your name, my son?"

"Jess, your Majesty. Jess Aarons."

He swallowed his terror as he gazed up into the intense gaze of the King.

He was sure he was about to be executed for such a breach of protocol as gazing upon the King without permission. Jess trembled. As he cowered under the scrutiny of the most powerful man in the Kingdom, he locked his knees together for fear he might wet himself.

The King did something completely unexpected.

He smiled.

"Dear boy," he said in a voice barely audible in the massive great room, "you have saved all our lives."

Jess returned the King's smile. Under the circumstances, it wasn't easy.

"In gratitude, I will grant you one request," the King declared. "Be it land, wealth or position in my court, you have only to name your prize."

Jess couldn't believe his ears. Leslie had told him of favors bestowed to great heroes, but he never gave any thought to the possibility of receiving one himself. It always seemed an impossible dream. He was so stunned by the turn of events that he stood in stupefied silence for a moment. Miss Edmunds cleared her throat, bringing him out of his revere. He glanced over to her. She looked so beautiful. He wanted to ask the King for her hand in marriage but knew better than to speak such a thought aloud. He would have humiliated himself and her if he had. He turned to look out at the crowd, wondering what they would choose if they had the opportunity.

Everyone in the room was watching him: Nobles, lords, ladies, soldiers, servants.

And Leslie.

Leslie. The one person in the entire kingdom who had believed in him. The one person who had respected him. The one person in the world to whom he owed everything.

With sudden, calm clarity, he understood what he had to do.

He would use his one request to do something nice for Leslie.

He turned to the King, less cowed than before, and with certainty of purpose, he spoke to him of his one true desire.

"Your Majesty," he began in a voice that he was certain could be heard all around the room, "I am honored by your grace and humbled by your noble gratitude, but I would not be here today if not for my best friend and benefactor, Leslie Burke." He looked back at her. She stood out amongst the crowd, in her deep blue dress, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed red at having been mentioned to the King. As he smiled at her, he was sure she turned even redder. "I have never known anyone who cared so much for another person. I owe her everything I have become." He turned back to the King. "She is to be married to a man she does not love. I can think of no worse crime than to force her into a loveless marriage." He stepped forward. "I hereby request that you nullify her marriage and grant her the freedom to choose her own path." He looked back to her again and smiled. "She's earned it."

The Great Hall was as silent as a tomb. Jess looked up expectantly as he considered. He stole a glance back to Leslie. Even at this distance, Jess could see tears running down her ruby cheeks. Although he couldn't hear her, Jess saw her whisper his name. She looked overwhelmed by the events taking place and he wondered if he hadn't made a mistake.

Miss Edmunds subtle gesture made him return his attention to the king. Jess smile fell away as he saw that he did not look entirely pleased.

"What you have asked is highly unusual, young man." He leaned down close. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Jess looked to Miss Edmunds. Her face was unreadable.

He looked back at Leslie.

He was sure.

"Yes, Majesty. I'm sure."

"Very well," he whispered. The King stood tall and spoke in a clear booming voice. "Let it be known that this day I do hereby nullify the marriage of Leslie Burke and grant her the freedom to choose her own path, by the request of Jess Aarons, the hero of Arkahna."

Jess looked back to Leslie. She suddenly erupted with a cry. He ran to her and held her as she sobbed. He knew she was crying with joy. He had done it. He had saved her.

"You freed me," she whispered in astonishment. "Thank you, Jess," she wept as she held him tight. Thank you!"

"Its only fair," he whispered back. "You freed me first."

000

Jess yawned. The festival was over and they were ready to head home. As they tok one last look back at the palace, Jess thought about all that had happened. His hand stroked the golden medallion at his chest, a gift from the King himself. He had been declared a noble. He was now Leslie's equal. The future seemed bright with possibilities.

As they stood watching the sunlight bathe the white towers in golden light, Tom's voice broke the stillness. "The story will be told for many years, around council chambers and campfires, temples and castles. From the bedside of noble children to the supper table of farmers, the people will speak of how the kingdom was pulled from the brink of disaster by a simple farm boy named Jess Aarons, who with courage and quick-thinking saved the Kingdom of Arkahna."

Jess blushed furiously at his words—for he did not delude himself that it was all his doing. He knew that he owed his success to everyone who helped make him a hero, from his parents who loved him, to the Lord and Lady Burke who took him in, to Tom and Miss Edmunds for teaching him so much and most of all to his best friend.

As he watched the sunlight cast her golden hair in shimmering light, she smiled at him, a smile of quiet pride. At that moment, he realized that Leslie was the one who deserved the most praise, for it was Leslie who had brought him out of the darkness and into his bright new life.


End file.
